rough draft

The Cabin

Forlorn, worn and faded

Standing alone, but not forgotten

The voices of yesteryear still

Echo around the ridges and hills.

Once the gathering place for the family

Still sits yearning for someone to come inside

And fill her empty spaces with sound again.

Reared by slaves who toiled for their good master

She was built fine and sturdy.

She has weathered many storms.

 

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