The Cabin Will Be Gone

Once upon a time,

there was a cabin.

It was not big,

it was not grand,

but it was ours.

Our great-grandparents built it so many years ago,

they wanted a cabin that would be passed down for generations.

It only made it to us.

Our older relatives would like to sell it soon,

we do not have much time.

It will be gone before we know it.

No more swimming in the pond, 

or fishing off the dock.

No more squeaky spring door,

or late-night kayaks.

The Cabin will be gone.

No more towels drying on the porch,

or sunsets watched from the edge of the water.

No more exploring the forest,

or calling the loons that live in the pond.

The Cabin will be gone. 

No more games of cards played on the pull-out couch,

or simply sitting on the forest floor.

No more reading in the lofts,

or family board games played when the sun has long since set.

The memories are fading fast.

Two summers ago,

we went to the Cabin for what may be the last time. 

I didn't know.

There are so many things I wish I had done,

because I didn't know that

the Cabin will be gone.