Posted in Writing

Short Poem: Abandoned House

The old abandoned house

Sweat beads perspiring on my forehead and running down my back.

Walls of dark paneled wood and floors of broken linoleum and bare concrete 

Cobwebs with corpses of insects long since devoured sprawling across dingy windowsills.

Indigenous dust and the remains of a recent rain thick in the air.

The hum of cars in the background giving way to gentler buzz of cicadas in dead summer heat.

I have finally made it inside–the lone traveler sent to tame the land.


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