Hiking down trails lacking signs of life.
Seemingly not tread for scores of years.
Stumbling upon a homestead, hidden from view.
As if nature was digesting this domicile.
Wooden doors already no more.
Glass windows lie broken.
Sneaking a glance while trying to imagine,
A family once residing here.
Through the glass there'd have been signs of life,
Maybe husband and wife,
Trying to prepare for...