Wind of History by Jacek Yerka
The white house road came along from the otherside!
I sit now, writing from the morning room on the south
end of my Grand parents home.
The old white car has sunk into its inevitable,
deepening rut. The house helpers had been told
" No matter what- come in from the main gate side!"
Springtime, ice, wind, snow, rain- " Do not use
the common road!" My Grand father had built his own
approach .To enhance the view. To show off the property
to its best advantage! With the lovely fan of trees.
Even though the gate has now fallen over
and the stone wall with its urns and original decor
are tumbled and crumbled - you can still hear his
edict- as if on the wind " Come to the circle driveway,
we shall meet you at the door !"
The white house road came along from the otherside!
I sit now, writing from the morning room on the south
end of my Grand parents home.
The old white car has sunk into its inevitable,
deepening rut. The house helpers had been told
" No matter what- come in from the main gate side!"
Springtime, ice, wind, snow, rain- " Do not use
the common road!" My Grand father had built his own
approach .To enhance the view. To show off the property
to its best advantage! With the lovely fan of trees.
Even though the gate has now fallen over
and the stone wall with its urns and original decor
are tumbled and crumbled - you can still hear his
edict- as if on the wind " Come to the circle driveway,
we shall meet you at the door !"
