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Poetry Pleases: The House That Once Stood Proud

Miriam McAtee writes of a house that is content to stand alone, dreaming of former times.

I stand alone at the edge of the world
in ruins, battered and forlorn, yet undaunted.
Once I was a happy place: a home, a haven;
now my empty walls sigh
and only the winds can hear.

The sea encroaches, slow but sure.
How long will it be before I am no more?
I have good memories of how it once was
but no one now has
memory of me.

The Reaper with its iron claw
is sure to come one day.
Great teeth of steel will rake and paw
and my crumbling walls
will flatten like the shore.

But for now I am content to be;
to stand alone and dream of days long past
when love and laughter rang all around me
and my walls stood fast
to enclose the ones who once loved me.

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