The curtains flutter old and tattered,
     The floors are cracked, the doorways battered.
          The grow marks on the wall that stands,
               Marks in the sidewalk of little hands.

Hollyhocks poking through the weeds,
     Grow here and there from windswept seeds.
          The house once white, now old and gray,
               Remembering now a better day.

Oh, memories of a life now past,
     My house is gone, just memories last.
           I'll never see that house again,
                I'll only just remember when....

                          C. Cone
                          Silver Bay, MN