Gone to the Bone

Sits on a corner,
A city, a street,

A high wooden fence
The grounds:
A compound
In semblance
In air.

No one seems home.
But people
Do live there,
I swear!

It’s quiet,
And gone in the bone:

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,
On the corner,
Or room.
©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn
6 November 2013
Poem’s Score: 6.7

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