THE HOUSE ON MESA ROAD

What tale could it tell if it could only speak,
That house on Mesa Road.

There's history there, of that I'm sure.
What calamity did that house endure?
Did disaster strike? Something did occur
At that house on Mesa Road.

A tornado, a cyclone, who can understand?
The trees are bent and twisted near the ground,
As if knocked down flat by a giant's hand.
At that house on Mesa Road.

The walls and fences are crumbling down.
What should be green is mostly dull and gray.
What paint was there is a long time gone.
It shows neglect, signs of decay.
That poor house on Mesa Road.

Once it must have been a showplace proud.
Behind its walls tall trees so stately stood.
Shining ever bright with foliage green.
It was surely the pride of the neighborhood.
That house on Mesa Road.

But those sparkling days have passed on by.
For it's now in a sad and lonely state.
Who can say if someone lives there still.
A rusty "Keep Out" sign is on the gate
At that house on mesa Road.

If granted speech, there is no doubt,
"Help me to live again", would be its plea.
Then with lots of money, work and TLC,
It could once again be a proud abode;
And with its rightful pride and dignity,
Be the grandest house on Mesa Road.