Old Grey House

I've seen the house a dozen times or more. Every time I drove by it, I thought about who might have lived there, how long it'd been there and if someone might m...
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I've seen the house a dozen times or more. Every time I drove by it, I thought about who might have lived there, how long it'd been there and if someone might miss that old dilapidated house. I wondered what stories the walls could tell if they could speak. Approaching it,

I didn't feel apprehensive. I actually felt kind of sad because it seemed to lonely- how a building can feel lonely is beyond me, but I felt like it was just glad to have someone there to appreciate it. Sitting in the sun, it seemed like it was just waiting...maybe waiting for the old owners to return. The roof had holes in places but it had the feeling of standing tall, as if to say "look at me! I can still function!" Almost like it was eager to please.

I left the house sitting in the massive field full of flowers and weeds, the black berry bushes slowly consuming the house that refused to succumb to the inevitability of time. Something gives me the feeling that without human interference, it might outlast many of the new shiny houses that encroach on the little abandoned houses territory.
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