Mrs. Ross's House/ Galveston Island - Poem by Juan Olivarez
Climb up the ancient worn stone steps,
Into another world.
Though my old legs aren't quite adept,
I want to enter this old girl.
massive doors before me stand,
Of solid oaken woods.
Storm shutters open, to the bay and sand,
how many storms have they withstood.
Stepping inside dwarfed by the doors
I can feel the celing fans.
Toiling away, throughout the core,
Fastened long ago, by long dead hands.
'Impossibly high' comes to my mind,
This celing high above.
This house has withstood everything even time,
Whenever push has come to shove.
Looking out of the attic, out to sea,
I can see the ships come in.
The blue green gulf calls out to me,
Like a siren's song pregnant with sin.
'The mansion' is what we call her home,
But the word is not quite adequate.
And she roams these halls most oft alone,
Which is a subject we debate.
Only jose stands by her side,
Seeing to all her needs.
Within these walls they've laughed and cried,
Wondering where tomorrow leads.
When I see Galveston fall behind,
I hang my head and cry.
Those three are always on my mind,
Lord how I hate to say goodbye.
5/12/12 Alton Texas
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