The Aberts Poem by Nathan J. Bogart

A tall, aging home built on the foundation of stone
Scripted with heavy routine and scheduling
Lies beyond the tall Oaks and bendy rivers
That encompass the town
It is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Aberts, the elderly
And within those walls, they walk in perfect rhythm
The very same rhythm of the preceding day
A rhythm that will ceaselessly carry on each day
It is how it has been and always will be
They sit down at the same table, in the same positions
And eat the same food in the exact same manner
His voice bounces in the same mellow, mono-tonous way
And she has the very same fake gesture of a smile
I presume that even their digestion is the same
The same movement through the same organs
And it can be imagined that when an organ is to fail
And to abrupt this continuous routine
The house will crumble
To let us find that the very stone the house was built upon
Stretches far beyond the borders of where the house once stood...