A brooding shadowed House,
Endures high up on a hill,
Windows lie ghostly dark,
Rain gathers on the sill.
Long years since it last saw light,
Fire crackled behind the hearth grate,
Shadows haunt and roll back years,
Where children laughed and quietly ate.
Steep stairs that yet would creak,
Alas, none are left to tread,
Dark hallways breathe their chill,
Dread years long since dead.
The kitchen stripped and naked,
Stone hearth aged, and cold,
Meals once cooked within these walls,
Now memories grown old.
Garden brambles, bare their teeth,
Creep ever on through doors,
Engulfing all, inexorably,
Entwines the upper floors.
At once a movement stirs,
Mute silence withdraws,
A mouse seeking shelter,
From the grim owl’s dark claws.
The mouse leaves through shadow,
Slips out the back door,
Once more creeps in silence,
Shrill excitement no more.
Nought occurs throughout the day,
Anew the hallways slumber,
In serenity the house counts,
Long lost years without number.
Sad lost fleeting shadows,
Out empty frames they fly,
Sad lost shades gather,
Windows weep for their sky.
