Grace Will Hold

9-26-24 

Up on the hill stands a clothesline 
Rope just hangs and dances about
Those few strands you can see
Soon gone away, no more doubt 

How the house still stands its ground
The hill allows winds to come and go 
Its tall, the second floor holding its own
I shake my head, away I walk away slow

Dust leaves its resting place, 
And  travels to any crack it finds 
Broken window like welcome mats
It lays in silence, dressed to the nines

Why would it be left, a field around 
Who was the las to soul, turned and walked
Were they a family packed tight, lights off
And lowered his head, a door he locked 

Taxes due, or overdue is more correct 
Papers signed in government ink
To make that field produce enough 
A wish, a hope, taken all, by another’s wink

Rain holds within hand dice it will row
A roulette wheel, black or red, lays out money 
Turned the sun who rules the king of spades 
clouds ran off, make it produce, pretty damn funny 

Whatever it told, and the tales she spun
Was to be forever, never see her bend 
No trespassing sign, a fence to back it up 
Water gushes inside, in my lifetime she will end