It has become the new way in the south, that when a house is considered unlivable that instead of tearing it down and burning it that they actually "bury" it. This is what happened last July 18th, 1999 to the house I grew up in.      I wrote this as a memory for my brothers, sisters and myself.

  Buried Memories
 
  Today you were buried, at long last laid to rest.
  You lived yourself a good life. You did your very best.
  You sheltered us from storms, winds that howled and moaned.
  You made us always welcome and said, "Yes come on home."
  Today they laid you to rest, put an end to your grief and pain.
  Never more to suffer the agony of the strain.
  You did your best be sure; none could have asked for more.
  Then to always leave a light on, and an unlocked old front door.
  Today they laid you to rest, to receive your shining Glory,
  no one knows what you know, you kept the old, old stories.
  Today they finally took you and placed you in the ground
  no more for you to suffer, not a creak nor a sound.
  Today you said your good-byes and went on back to God;
  That house that I grew up in, returned unto the sod.
  But never will I slumber without some thoughts of you;
  That house between the two oaks, the rose and morning dew.
  The man who built you with his hands the best that he knew how,
  The woman, and the house he loved, will rest with him for now.
 
  July 18th, 1999
  Kathalise Martin
  Original Poem
  Please do not take.