A little cottage nestled in the hills, <br />its roof is thatched <br />and it windows carry Georgian squares. <br />In its garden pretty flowers grow; <br />while in the fields, <br />seeds of corn are sown. <br />Snug within its stonewalls <br />lives a family, <br />husband, wife and their two sons. <br />Sadness filled the cottage one day <br />when the sons were called to war. <br />Candles were lit; prayers were said <br />for their safe return. <br />Years rolled by, paintwork peeled, <br />but the little cottage was still a home <br />with its fire warm. <br />Day after day, year after year <br />they waited for their sons return. <br />Then came what they dreaded most, <br />letters laced with black <br />to say that their sons had fallen <br />in fields far away <br />and would not be coming back. <br />A wreath of black hangs on the door <br />for their soldier boys <br />who will come home no more. <br />Sorrow again gripped the walls. <br />As years followed, <br />the little cottage fell into disrepair. <br />Within this once happy home <br />only sadness rang. <br />The husband and wife <br />grew old in their years, <br />but always held the memory <br />of two young lost lives. <br />Slowly they too faded away. <br />Now the little cottage <br />stands silent for all to see. <br />Falling down from lack of repair, <br />but always holding memories <br />of happiness once there.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-little-cottage/
