The Derelict Hut Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

The low wall that surounded it
Is now mostly tumbled down
The gate once white, now hangs at an angle
The garden is rank with weeds and grasses
The thatch of the roof is all gone
There is no longer a door nor windows
Moths have turned the curtains to lace
An old wooden chair leans like a drunk
Balancing on two legs against the cobwebby walls
A forgotten doll lies on a rug of leaves
One eye and most of it's hair missing
In the fireplace a little of the ash is still there
From the last fire that was burnt in the grate
Warming the single room with its' cheerful flame
A chipped jug, a battered spoon
A broken mug, a rusty bucket
These things are all that remain
To remind one of the family
Whose precious home, this once was.