Written for: Sunday Muse #205
The diner had never been white. Since the nearest road was Whitehouse, people referred to it by that name, 'Diner' being too impersonal. When fire broke out, ashes of trees lay everywhere. Although it suffered severe damage, The Whitehouse Diner still stands. Who knows? A diner-lover may travel to town, fall in love with Whitehouse, and restore it to its former glory. http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
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purplepeninportland 
Restoration holds a certain hope indeed
Love the hope this holds Sara!
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Thanks, Carrie!
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… and wouldn’t that be an amazing project?!? I like your take on the photo!!
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Thanks, Helen. I love diners, and hope someone sees this one.
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Pingback: Diner Seeking Restoration – Urban Fishing Pole Lifestyle
Nice poem, Sara.
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Thanks, Mike!
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A poem of hope.
Love the feel of it.
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Thanks, Syl!
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