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The Shack

door killea

The Shack


The mist from the lake had lifted
in the leaf barren winter forest
there it stood, in all its pride and glory
built on shingles at each corner
the wooden planks once golden brown
now grey with age, wear and tear
a window with one half shutter open
in the loft another the same
the roof a shade of light green moss
three steps led to the veranda
a bench where once stories were told
of war, the hunt, women and weather
you do not speak but we hear your voice
a chimney, a fire, so cosy, so old
your beauty delightful to behold

feedback van andere lezers

• andremoortgat
  Beautiful
  killea: Thank you Andre.
  xx
  j
• greta
  Beautiful picture. Feels like the Irish atmosphere in a book a just read.
  (Lighthouse of Connemara)
  killea: Many thanks Greta
  xx
  j

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