|Biographical Poetry posted January 12, 2015|
It had a certain charm I must explain
A weathered lean of forty five degrees
I'd driven past it time and time again
Those wayward angles favouring the breeze
This rusty shed that wobbled at the knees
had buckled from the years beneath the strain
Succumbing to corrosion and disease
Though slouching on its joints would still remain
That swaying tilt would border on insane
Precariously perched with downward ease
This moment in its life I must obtain
A photo opportunity I'd seize
I crept up close but wasn't game to sneeze
Recalling all those times I'd driven past
And saw it nestled there beyond the trees
Then wondered if that day might be its last
Upon the ailing shed my gaze was cast
I captured it amidst its state of wane
Thus leaving me inspired yet aghast
Its character my image would retain...
But nature guarantees us all an end
The future wasn't hard to ascertain
I knew as I drove off around the bend
Its fight against the elements, in vain
That dwelling I'd so fondly looked upon
Gave up the ghost, the next time it was gone...
I cried a little and died a little when I saw my shed gone for good. I really did.
I love old buildings, tanks and fences that show their true character as they slowly erode away.
I'm sure they have many a story to tell.
Mmmm, seems I DO have a serious side.
Some poetic licence with the actual angle of the lean...I believe it MAY have only been 35 degrees but whose counting?
Thanks for reading...
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