Where the Old Shed Sits
The Old Shed Remains…
Cat creeping vines like slender green fingers
weave their way between dry grey paling s,
and an old fence becomes alive and thriving,
meshed so tightly, that fence no longer stands
but is suspended, released from its only task;
so it sighs with a burden-less acceptance,
and in nature’s arms is rocked gently to slumber.
That shed, once rippled in shiny metallic splendor,
now sits lack-luster, endowed with rusted patches,
from grays to orange golds, stippled in age,
yet standing strong and yielding not to nature’s final call,
instead wearing that age with pride
and even those creaking sounds when winds rattle its cage,
cannot deny its steadfast resolve.
The doors however, stripped of all paint,
the vibrant skin that once glistened in the sun,
bares the time, the slow and steady weathering
of its once sound face, now dappled in grays and blacks,
stringy fibrous tendons, barely forming structure,
and in places, powder to the touch,
yet there it stands still in one harmonious piece.
Two windows not cleaned in decades, stand,
brown with dust and generations of spider webs,
like skeleton curtains across corners,
and the wood that holds that glass,
a mass of curling knots and worn holes,
splintered life in decay, just holding on
in time’s malicious affray.
The roof, now rolling like a fractious sea,
reveals iron sheets twisted with corners untethered,
rattled from all the storms of life,
roofing nails in vast array of type and color
short and tall, half in, half out
in a shambles, repair a pointless state of affairs,
yet there it is.
I hear the echoes of what it was,
the work so ardently completed within,
and know there was a pride, a healthy purpose
within these dusty walls,
now a tomb, a desolate half-light dingy space,
where life once bloomed and effort marked the walls
with yesterday’s sweat.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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I love that old shed, Tony. There is just so much to it, nostalgic memories, time and weather worn, but still standing strong, holding inside secrets or stories from long ago. Your phrasing is so endearing and lends love and respect to that old shed. Great work.
Much appreciated Phyllis, so glad you enjoyed it. Sheds always hold a fascination with me.
This is wonderful, Tony. I have never heard an old shed described so vividly. I could actually see and feel it through your writing, even every nail in the roof.
Much appreciated John, I do love old sheds as they echo the past so clearly to me and in their dilpidated condition refuse to fall down. I do love them. Glad you appreciated it my friend.
Tony, I had to come back and read this again. It brought some very fond memories back for me. When I was a kid my parents bought a little farm on the outskirts of the city. The farm had six sheds on it that were very old, but sturdy. Each shed had its own character and memories. I loved to take my dolls and go hide in one of the sheds we were able to enter, one was the big wood shed. There I could sit for hours in another world of my very own – that was the only time I was not a tomboy competing with four brothers. I loved those old sheds, they were like friends in a way. I just had to share that with you.
That’s a great memory, I too had a shed on a parcel of land directly behind my home as a child. We had a back gate that opened onto this land and an old shed just as I described. It forever lives in my memory and those many years playing with friends in that back block. Glad you connected Phyllis.
How vividly you describe that old shed Tony..brought to my memories an old shed in my grandma’s home..I have a lot of sentiment for such places and so I am captivated by your beautiful words..thank you so much for sharing..(hope you had a great Thanksgiving)
Thank you Anjana, so glad you related and enjoyed my words. Take care my friend.