Alone but not forgotten ...
If these walls could speak, I'm sure they'd have an abundance of stories to tell. Perhaps even one that answers the question "why here?" as I gaze upon a place someone once called home. Built of wood in the absence of trees? Built atop Mother Nature's discarded pile of dirt to which only the buffalo grass grows? Why here where the relentless parch of the breeze blows freely, seemingly nonstop? Maybe it's because Colorado sunsets are unlike any I've ever seen. Time may never tell, nor will they ever be revealed by the forgotten souls that still drift to-and-fro in the whispering Colorado
wind.
Alone but not forgotten ...
If these walls could speak, I'm sure they'd have an abundance of stories to tell. Perhaps even one that answers the question "why here?" as I gaze upon a place someone once called home. Built of wood in the absence of trees? Built atop Mother Nature's discarded pile of dirt to which only the buffalo grass grows? Why here where the relentless parch of the breeze blows freely, seemingly nonstop? Maybe it's because Colorado sunsets are unlike any I've ever seen. Time may never tell, nor will they ever be revealed by the forgotten souls that still drift to-and-fro in the whispering Colorado
wind.