Overhead, a swinging lamp
casts shadows amidst the damp
of a derelict house that still stands
against time’s winds and sands:
A testament to an ingenious man
and the workings of his rough-hewn hands.
On quiet nights, it still lights the way
to fallow field and vine-choked hay.
Tasking their master to return and reap,
wind-blown stalks bend and weep.
RED GLADIOLA 
lovely
Thank you. =)
Reblogged this on Perth Words… exploring possibilities. and commented:
Beautifully evocative.
Thanks! Very honored by your reblog. ❤
I only re-blog when I’m impressed and I enjoy a lot of your poetry (obviously). 🙂
A lovely poem – so nostalgic.
Thank you. =)
Sounds like my garret, on a good day. Kudos.