General Poetry posted November 3, 2014


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Memories brought back by a playhouse

The PlayHouse

by justjo66

Tiny house on the hill
Lonesome and still
Built by his loving hands
Abandoned now stands

Images pull at my heart
All fell apart
Grown children do not remember
That fatal December

His wife had a lover
He did discover
Wild with alcohol and pain
Down dark lane

Memories wiped from his slate
Reconciliation too late
Empty playhouse on the hill
Time didn't stand still

The moral of my story
Suicide is gory
Playhouses aren't built for death
Nor a son's last breath


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