Lost In Time Poem by Bill Kamen

It started as a house,
but it did not stop there.
Soon love entered and
the house became a home.

A home that echoed a baby's laugh,
walls that remembered joy and happiness,
grief and sorrow.
A home that mellowed through the years,

Then the winds of greed began to blow,
and the foundation began to unfold.
As its life came to an end.

The sounds of vagrant rodents,
squeaking,
hissing,
grinding,
and an odor coming from
the feral house.



Suddenly, as a peal of thunder moves in,
it begins raining decay.
Lead from crumbling bricks, pealing paint,
drifts toward the openings.