Our Readers' Opinions
August 20, 2010
THE OLD STRUCTURE
Cyril King, hither all his life
Wedge and shingle, with weeds growing around
The turn of young life has passed
Extinct the fine art piece{{more}}
Standing, supported by a walking stick
Reaching to grip firm, trembling
The exterior of the wall looks of cracked line
Dirty, a mess when water runs down
Not capable of becoming new
The top of many white hair lost
The protection of the structure
All let loose in the wind
Standing among rain trees
At sunset, like a cadaver
Lee, on the front and the back
Darkened because of a shortage little light
Appearing like nothing was there
Elvett King
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