The country store
has stood sentry for over a century.
Now worn and tired,
beautiful in a simple way.
Each floor board
worn smooth as if polished
by the soles of
many a Victorian boot.
The smell of
fresh bread and roasted coffee
mix with
burning apple wood in the stove
bringing back memories
of a bygone era
when life was simple
and simple was life…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem