The Write Place

Where the lilies grow

And animals play under the willow

Stands an empty field now fallow

Where once was a house where a family was sheltered

Stands a fence by wild growth now fettered

And to which a loving dog once was tethered

Yet now in which none dwell

Without man it lies empty and barren

With none to drink from its well
fields lie fallow with none to cultivate

It lays lonely waiting for one to till

A Wilderness for man to placate

With no new but only old stories to tell

Until man comes this field will wait,

Her peace and balance destroyed

For a world without man is a world left void