A small red bicycle
Lying forlorn in the dirt
The torn off head
Of a once beautiful doll
Cradled in the roots
Of the old tree
Still holding on to
A rusted broken swing
The wind blowing sand
Across the deserted porch
Slamming the screen door
Against its sagging frame
Rattling the loose tiles
On the dilapidated roof
Creating a sad symphony of
The house I used to live in
My life is much the same
As that old broken down house
Waiting to be rebuilt
To shine like new
Bask in its old glory
All it will take now
Is a bit of courage
And a whole lot of work