Where No One Lives

I took a couple of days off this week to play some golf, visit friends and relax a bit. Drove out to Spicewood Beach where Sherry and I lived for almost ten years. We sold the house a year or so ago, and, for whatever reason, the new owners have never moved in, or even used it for a lake house (it’s in a community on the south end of Lake Travis.) I was saddened by the sight of the dry, lifeless yard and the empty house, and it made me think of this poem I wrote in 1998 after seeing an old abandoned house along the highway. I hope you enjoy it.

Where No One Lives


Wind shrieks through broken window

A house where no one lives

Rusted wheel cries out an answer

From a well that no water gives


Leafless tree that once bore fruit

Alone in weed filled yard

Long since dead and barren

Lifeless limbs are grey and hard


Splintered door on rusted hinge

Sings a mournful song then closes

By the porch a broken trellis

Once filled with yellow roses


Porch swing sits against the wall

No chains to make it swing

No lovers or children to hold

When April brings the spring


Broken boards, once a home

Shelter no longer it gives

Tis but a pile of broken memories

This house where no one lives


Copyright © 1998 C. Mashburn


  1. Susan said

    Very good! I actually felt the emptiness . . .

  2. […] morning, I happened upon the remake of a song I mentioned when I posted that same poem, (Where No One Lives), five years ago. The Sounds of Silence, by a heavy metal band called Disturbed. Being the old guy […]

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