January 15, 2003
Old house. Once your siding was painted bright white and your trim and shutters a cheerful blue. Now both are weathered to a dingy gray. Your windows, from which soft yellow light would shine on warm summer evenings are boarded up so no one can see the disgrace you have come to. Once you were someone's dream, a haven built to shelter those he loved. Now the only ones who call you home crawl on four feet and gnaw on old wires.
When did the dream die? When did they stop caring?
Maybe someone else will dream you alive again.