• Author B. D. West

Little house on a dead end road

Little house on a dead end road

Little house on a dead end road

Whose heart did you once hold

Old and slightly run down

Your foundation however is on solid ground

Curtains still hang in your windowsill

As if you await someone still

Your doors long to be opened once more

There should be shoes resting on your floor

How cruel time can be

Your beauty I will never see

If I were not a poor man’s wife

With a little paint I could bring you back to life

Pockets empty so I can only love you from afar

I’ll take your picture from the window of my car

And just as your previous owner once did

I’ll dream of you as if I were a kid

I’ll dream of a long white picket fence all around

Flowers on every corner abound

In your tree I’d hang a swing

Oh what happiness you could bring

But you’re just the little house on a dead end road

It is my heart you now hold

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Author B. D. West all rights reserved