Abstract
The old farmstead was lying in dead silence like a tired sentinel that has not been cared for for a long time and showing the signs of many seasons. Different places of paint treatment were revealing wood that was sun bleached underneath, washed away by days of heat and a never ending storm. The roof, which had been a visible feature of dark shingles was now faded and moss was growing on the edges as if nature was reclaiming what used to be hers.
The broken windowpanes were like hollow eyes gazing towards an expansive field where wildflowers were gently swaying in the wind. The air inside was thick with memories and the scent of wet earth. The floorboards were threatening to crack with every step and dusty spider webs were hanging like a patterned silk from the uncovered beams, a ghostly symbol that even though it was falling apart and was abandoned, it still could tell the stories of its past.
The farm was a symbol of the passing of years and the unchanging human spirit that once held the hands that were tired, tough and sowed large fields of grain and a small garden.
Recommended Citation
Downham, K. E.
(2026)
"Silent Testament,"
Lines from the Middle of Nowhere: Vol. 2026:
Iss.
1, Article 1.
Available at:
https://scholars.fhsu.edu/lines/vol2026/iss1/1
