One-hundred and thirty years have passed,
Leaving this door in dis-repair, with the passing of the loved ones, as they come in, then come out,
Turning the knob from inside, sliding the key from out,
Watchful through the glass, pulling the curtain aside,
To look inside, then out.
The lock was turned and worn, it quit working years ago,
As those who went in, and laughed and slept and ate their meals,
And cried and withered at the site of those who came in,but, had to go out.
The hungry came in,
The satisfied came out,
The happy went in, those who thought the most of the time, was a time for them to have their life,
And those who left to soon or left alone, or left for some foreign land,
Are those who now, are out.
Ralph Peck
Photograph by Mark Mascilli
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