Gordon Dean Schlundt
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One Last Look
Today I buried Papa in the ground,
Next to Mama, and my brother John;
For old time's sake, and one last look around,
Before my long and lonely ride back home,
I went out by the farm where I grew up.
The once-grand house groaned in disrepair,
Abandoned now for twenty years, or more;
Fences needed mending, weeds were everywhere,
The faded barn seemed smaller than before;
Awaiting eager climbers, the basswood tree.
The mailbox rusted on the crooked post,
Papa's name still partly readable;
I wondered if the hayloft rope still hangs