Among the Treesthere’s nothing odd about the orchardexcept it’s oldthe trees are lined in rows beyond a wall of stonesthe house that once belongedhas scattered long agoa time worn life light whirled away by windthe years have turned to cars nowdriving down this gravel roadpast the faded rows of apple treesremain some stoopedold mentheir broken cane like branches prop them upand yet they blossom in the springI Amsplintered at the shallow enddon't think you can strike a piece of steelagainst my bonesyou can't put me back togetherand though the leakinghas begunI wish I could not sayI know that I will stayuntil I drownJan Darrow is a graduate of the University of Michigan and currently lives in Michigan with her husband and daughter. She has always been interested in the paranormal, and finds abandoned places utterly beautiful. She has been published online and in print.
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