~
Nine-Seven-Eight
    Sits on a corner,
A city, a street,
    Somewhere.
 
A high wooden fence
    Surrounds
The grounds:
    A compound
In semblance
    In air.
 
Nine-Seven-Eight.
    No one seems home.
But people
    Do live there,
I swear!
 
It’s quiet,
    Threadbare,
And gone in the bone:
    Secret,
Private,
    Alone.
 
Three quarters
    A score
Of years,
    Maybe more,
I passed
    By the home,
 
Where I walk
    As I roam
(Two dogs in tow
    I pass as I go)
And the home
    Stands alone.
 
Seems no one
    Is home.
A couple,
    Three kids
Have all grown
 
Leaves Nine-Seven-Eight
    A White Elephant,
Alone
    On the corner,
Or room.
~
 
©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn
6 November 2013
Poem’s Score: 6.7