There is a little old house
that sits in a little old yard
I pass every day on my route home from work.
It is a charming little (tiny really, maybe 700 square feet max) bungalow with an ancient beige stucco exterior and a front stoop painted a brilliant white.
Often I’d see a little old couple mowing the lawn or trimming hedge and always,
tending to the beautiful flowers in terracotta pots and deep black soil beds scattered throughout the front yard.
It was neat and tidy.
Fairy tale charming.
But these last couple of months I’ve noticed a big black truck parked in the drive. The lawn has not been mowed and the weeds have strangled any flowers that may have once raised their blossoms to the sun.
It looks shaggy
My feeling is that the new owners don’t tend to the home because it’s old and it’s not worth their while.
Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe they’re just busy.
But I wish they’d see that and old little house can be more beautiful than the cold palatial homes built “on the other side” of town.
I enjoy driving through new neighborhoods and seeing all the new homes,
the impressive windows
and three car garages.
And I “ooh” and “ahh” and find them impressive.
But don’t ask for a description as I can remember nary a one.
But the little old house
with the welcoming white stoop
I can see clearly in my mind’s eye.
Because I smiled every time I passed it by.