• An old house sits
    On
    First Street
    That hasn’t seen an occupant
    In thirty, forty, fifty years

    The once white, now gray,
    Paint is peeling
    In long, crumbling strips
    Like the sun stained skin
    Of an elderly woman

    Ivy climbs from the lonely garden
    Right up to the second story window
    Which is shattered,
    And boarded up
    With nails and duct tape

    Shingles lay splattered
    Across the yard
    But you can’t see
    Through the jungle of grass,
    Long ago was it cared for

    As the wind blows,
    Gentle sighs,
    She heaves
    Fending off the wind
    Protecting her ancient treasure

    An old house sits
    On
    First Street
    That once belonged to me
    But now no one dare occupy it
    For my spirit has yet to leave