Hardy’s.
A poem by Jessica Davis

Hardy’s.

When the sun is hot and the day hazy, I think of Hardy’s, the old mansion. Dilapidated, but full of character and charm, a distinguished marvel with long winding driveways and soldier trees that stand to attention tall and rustle so slight in the breeze.

Old stables are attached to the house rancid in odour, empty but for the memories of old, cobbles threadbare in the courtyard, bales of hay scent fill the summer air like roses in full bloom. Acres and acres of cornfields surround the main house if you look long enough you see the corn sway
in dance. This old house to me reminds me of happy times and dreams of what would be.

Hardy’s grows old so gracefully a timeless beauty. Where once happiness and laughter thronged. A history a past this feeling of mine will forever last. Hardy’s a marvellous place to be.

About the Author:

Jessica Davis lives in Co Kildare Ireland and her passions are books and poetry of all genres.

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