ode to the couple

Everyday I see these two houses. They are across the street from my house. They are like old tattered friends, conversing in the great sadness of their own mythologies. Morning light on rust orange paint, exposed rafters and inner supports, the trees being their threadbare clothing, collapsed stairs and shredded windows echoing the tribulations in their history. I want them to be whole again. I want to be whole. Maybe some paint will help all of us. Might have to give some love to these before they fall to the mighty deconstructors.