| Biographical Poetry posted January 12, 2015 |
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Old Shed...
Lean
by closetpoetjester
LEAN It had a certain charm I must explain A weathered lean of forty five degrees I'd driven past it time and time again Those wayward angles favouring the breeze This rusty shed that wobbled at the knees had buckled from the years beneath the strain Succumbing to corrosion and disease Though slouching on its joints would still remain That swaying tilt would border on insane Precariously perched with downward ease This moment in its life I must obtain A photo opportunity I'd seize I crept up close but wasn't game to sneeze Recalling all those times I'd driven past And saw it nestled there beyond the trees Then wondered if that day might be its last Upon the ailing shed my gaze was cast I captured it amidst its state of wane Thus leaving me inspired yet aghast Its character my image would retain... But nature guarantees us all an end The future wasn't hard to ascertain I knew as I drove off around the bend Its fight against the elements, in vain That dwelling I'd so fondly looked upon Gave up the ghost, the next time it was gone... (C) |
 Recognized |
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I cried a little and died a little when I saw my shed gone for good. I really did.
I love old buildings, tanks and fences that show their true character as they slowly erode away.
I'm sure they have many a story to tell.
Mmmm, seems I DO have a serious side.
Some poetic licence with the actual angle of the lean...I believe it MAY have only been 35 degrees but whose counting?
Thanks for reading...
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