Converted into mud...

Gone, broken,
dead,
won't be woken.
Stones, rubble, dust,
The house had gone down with the rust.

Commercialisation increased,
it just had to go,
increased industrialisation as you know.

As the memories go down with the mud,
now it's a rotting flower,
long ago, it was a bud.

Now the doors will never open,
the house is broken,
the resting spirits have woken.

The beauty is gone,
that incredible lawn,
the pond,
the beauty of dawn.

Now it's just a memory,
a memory with me,
it's amazing how we get attached to physical things
but now it was time,
this house had to take the wings.

Picture from the net- (http://lauraknowles.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/old_house.jpg )