<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420136" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Our House With The Rotary Phone</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sit in a room that no longer exists<br>On a chair long since splintered and gone<br>While I pick at a meal I once would devour <br>in our house with the rotary phone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sit in the room that doesn’t exist<br>Enjoying my choice of ice creams<br>Recalling the window in Tiffany glass<br>Forgive an old man his daydreams</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A simple “A” frame with three beds and a bath, <br>obsolete, yes, but our home.<br>It stood with its’ sisters on Queens borough Hill, <br>where the L.I.E. jams are well known.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I had known for some time that her best days were gone<br>A plywood fence circled our home<br>Title had passed to a contractor’s hands<br>Neglected, our house looked forlorn</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My past like a picture ripped from its frame<br>They left not a stone on a stone<br>Not even the numbers on wood painted green<br>of our house with the rotary phone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Our house and its twin have been wrecked and removed<br>And replaced with a modern brick “home”<br>So pardon my tear as I stand at the bier<br>Of our house with the rotary phone</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+F.+McCullagh">John F. McCullagh</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420136" data-title="Our House With The Rotary Phone de John F. McCullagh" data-description="I sit in a room that no longer exists On a chair long since splintered and gone While I pick at a meal I once would devour in our house with the rotary phone. I sit in the room that doesn’t exist Enjoying my choice of ice creams Recalling the ..."></div> </div> </div>

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