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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 14:11:12 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 127473
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => That Old Brick Home
[time] => 2006-10-27 09:26:32
[hometext] => It's 'Home' not 'House', a very real distinction that I realised en passant.
[bodytext] => That Old Brick Home At the cross roads where a dirt road joins the paved are yet orchards and farm land that's been saved. From developers so quick to clear farming homesteads once held so dear. A tree lined drive stretches up the way past a red roofed barn that's leaking hay, to an apple tree shaded farm house of age worn brick. On the other road side runs a rushed, frog croaking crick. The old home seems vacant most of the time , still, ..some days there's washing on their line. No children's clothes wind flap in the breeze, just faded blues hang with well worn knees. Frogs in cadence croak from the nearby pond, where floats a raft from times long gone A limb hung swing seat dangles from one old rope Seeming to call for a child, but with little hope. The old home seems to call for children's play as then in the past on some long ago day. A frog filled pond near a house of brick, with a swing and barn are where I'd pick to raise my child in a country set. Had I that choice, we'd live there yet. rw/Apr.23/06 [comments] => 2 [counter] => 207 [topic] => 44 [informant] => pooper [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Nostalgic )
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