Something told the wild geese
It was time to go,
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, “snow.”
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed, 46 more words
The chimney’s tumbled down, old doors
pout from hinges, rotting floors
grumble slightly as we’re walking.
Do you hear Miss Lizzie talking?
Steps have crumbled, that’s not all, 71 more words
A tear streaming from my eye,
Running through a field seeking refuge,
A road lined with bullet shells instead of pebbles,
An empty wheelbarrow stained red, 26 more words