Saturday, July 2, 2011
A small town enclosed by the walls of mountains,
Is hidden deep within a lonesome valley.
Shadows fall over its frame.
It is obscured by the blanket of a devistating downfall,
And continues to cling to the days of old...
Its history lingers within its shell,
Speaking of an vibrant story that is no longer told out loud.
And the memories of the previous liveliness are fresh in its roots,
Driving it toward restoration.
After seasons pass, new engery transpires,
Cultivating the old into new,
And aquirring the seed of freedom.
A sprout finally regrows from the weakened skeleton,
Spreading like a blazing fire.
No longer without oxygen to respire,
The town blooms once more.
The damage from the past begins to be repaired by the hands of a new source,
Who is willing to return to the former day,
When the evidence of disater was not apparent,
And the pulse was never faint.
Now soft songs sound from the once solitary streets,
Ringing toward the hills,
Spreading the aroma of life.
The small town is amidst recovery.