The old house once stood <br />strong and proud.... <br />without worries of <br />the winds and rain <br />without tought <br />of winters touch... <br />she was strong... <br />her brick walls <br />did not forsee <br />a fire... <br />when i found her <br />she smiled... <br />for she knew that I <br />could find beauty <br />in her broken limbs... <br />she called for me to come <br />to know her beauty... <br />for her walls <br />held memories <br />that spoke to me <br />of laughter and tears <br />long ago forgotten.. <br />of children playing <br />parents loving... <br />soon the walls <br />will fall <br />to the ground... <br />and only <br /> my pictures <br />will remain....<br /><br />Connetta Jean<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-the-fire/