While none inside the house had stirred,
Into the walls was etched the family proverb;
“To thine own land, thy shall be true,
Until the land takes care of you.”
December’s snow was melting fast
Running us through with streaks of blue
Hugging us cold, as if we’d asked it to.
The water trickled past the ground
Underneath: A silent sound
Eroding away, this foundation’s overdue.
But will you ever listen to
A boy’s solemn wisdom?
A sadness of the likes I have never witnessed.
A hundred fifty years of family traditions
Their eloquence of watering his eyes
As eloquent as the snow-fell water on the rise.
December’s snow had payed them well
The frost was banking far more ^^than what they could sell
But holed up below, the sinking’s made itself known.
First it payed a visit to the crops, then the barn came a-crashing and the ground fell through.
Then it sank without a stop
To the house which split in two.
A wonder of the likes I have never witnessed.
15 minutes of nature’s traditions.
They had it coming while I’ve never had a say
It’s unbecoming of me in this place to ever stay.
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