In My Old House

In my old house
Faces of shadows
Lurking
Behind broken glass
Shattered and Meaningless
In battered rays of desperate light
Upon these empty walls

In my old house
The distant sounds of children
Echo through a balmy summer’s night
While I wallow in thought
Under the dripping sky
With the Lonely stars
In this window sill
Sitting
Counting numbers….

Creak, crick, crack
Says this old house
Creak, crick, crack
Say these ramparts
Listen!
In my Old House
What do You hear?




ABOUT THE POET ~
Addiction counselor, writing enthusiast.


Last updated June 18, 2016