Once a Home, Maybe Again - a poem of repairs and life

Bits of paint are still on me
remnants of this house's past
shed as my scrapper moved along
taking off that history
adding flakes to ground below
where remnants of toys rose up
from amid the ruined earth
of deserted flower beds.

The job is hot and dirty
and even when paint flows on
you still sense the past around
as you undo ravages
of years of neglect from those
who left it alone awile
coming back only when forced
to fix the old homestead up
or let it be taken down.

What I do here now, I regret
this making things perfect now
when the scars it bore told tales
of what the place once had been
to those who lived here in days
when it was in better shape
yet still she will stand, this house
and perhaps be a home again.

(31Jul2012 - Dyfedd Rex)