The Old House
Has withstood the test of time.
The wild wind raging screams and howls,
In its fury pelting my new resilient roof
It’s far too small to deconstruct me
I stand tall and elegant, old and stately
I surround and shelter those tucked inside
My protective walls this wind can’t shake
Wind throwing twigs and hurling branches
Hard like small missiles meant to wound
They make unnerving and startling noises,
But helplessly they slide off my armored roof
Wind tries pounding walls with a dozen fists
The blows are futile and my boards don’t bend
Then pulling and trying to tear me apart
But I won’t give to wind even a splinter
I’ve seen many bigger storms than this
Wind, you know I’m more than ninety-two
And you are but a fresh and furious gale
Throwing sticks and pecans, hitting like hail,
You be but a mere straight wind no twist at all
I’ve been through worse and still I stood tall
Tenants once broke out all my tall windows
Idiots with guns blew holes in my floorss
A mean kid once even tried to set me on fire
His bundles of kindling found in my attic
But I would not burn for the little lunatic
Many have been born here and died here, too
My high ceilings the first or last they saw
My walls, if they could, great stories they’d tell
I’m only of wood, but hardened by the years,
And unless the giant oak or the high sycamore
Or even one of the spindly old pecan trees,
Fail and fall right down upon me just so,
I’ll stand here sheltering my people as always
Not about to collapse or come apart
For I was built to last by proud craftsman
Who never uttered, “that’s good enough,”
But rather worked until I was perfect
Never uttering that excuse “good enough”
As if only temporarily I was meant to stand
No, they built me strong for the ages
I’ve had some work done here and there
In the 30’s they first added plumbing
Not long after the doctor who built me
Moved his thriving practice over to town
And my clinic became a downstairs bedroom
The former waiting room they call a den
So rage on you disturbed howling wind
I will not yield to your fits and starts
The old oak and tall sycamore feel the same
Their roots are deep in good solid ground
We’ve been here all the while among our peers
On this once muddy road we’ve stood years,
Through many wars, and the depression, too
We shall not fall for you tonight, little blow,
Not me nor these gracious giant old trees
So calm yourself wind, and lay again gentle
You won’t take me; I’m stronger than you
So go on now, gently rustling the leaves,
Quiet down as it’s time for you to rest
And know again I’ve withstood your test
