An Old Village House Poem by Job Ombati

There's an old house
In the village still—
Perched alone
On a hill.
It defies neglect,
And claws of time.

All the good people left.
Leaving it desolate.
Sons left.
Daughters left.
Laughter left.
The good old music stopped.
The streams have dried.
The farms lie abandoned.
The village— desolate.

But in this village—
In the old hut
The good old lady lives still.
She still smiles—
Spreading yesterday's joy
Into today.

Poems for Humanity