Margo’s prompt for today: Take a familiar walk with “new eyes” and look for something unexpected about which to write.
Colors
The house on the hill grew shabby in time,
Shrinking from view (although few even looked)
Merging into the landscape,
a sad aura of brown and gold.
The”For Sale” sign in place for weeks,
its red the only color there.
The house was sold for, no surprise,
well below the asking price.
Now fall arrives – its browns and golds
still camouflage the little house.
Yet – in the front yard, a renewal.
Brick red Adirondack chairs and
a child’s new swing, bright blue ropes
hung from a massive oak.
such a colorful poem and yay for the little house.
There is something about little houses that grab us, isn’t there? I like the use of colours for the house’s new life, their vividness so vital.