The Good Old Days

Within a few miles of modern,
out on the little dirt roads in the country,
there are houses long abandoned,
their owners dead, and all descendants scattered.


So many were the children used to live here: early morning chores, late night lessons--lots of noise and joys and bustle.
Hard life.
But productive.
They're all gone now.
Someone works the land and keeps the harvests;
Nobody wants the houses anymore.
Just a few small, wild creatures use the shelter.

Last fall, my son Elijah and his girl, Marie, went walking near this old house. They took pictures of the building, the silence, and an old boot on the floor.

I loved their shots.
When I saw the boot it reminded me of a footprint on the moon.

Our Sunday Scribblings prompt was "the good old days".