Old House

an old house stands to be taken down

i am that old house

with my peeling paint and all the

stories that my wooden halls and floors

could tell.

Waiting for childrens laughter

to echo from my walls

river roll through me catch me off

guard. Let my garden work its magic

COunting the stars above my roof

I crick and I crack

the hallow rooms

that sit in twilight

My skeleton and skin came from

this land I rest upon

Oh they built me and I sheltered them

Oh my family how I miss them its

been a hundred and fiftynine years

since they walked through my doors

all the warm memories

got me so lonely, anna would sit on my

porch playin makebelieve makebelieve

in the morning pancakes and eggs

sweet romance in the dark

children playin building forts at

teatime. Man came by with snakes

in his eyes. He con'd my people out

forked tongue. He died that summer

Oh the wicked they pay in such

strange ways. But the strong seem

to bend in the wind.

Just listening to the mice chatter

and the spiders they spin their

webs, moss and leaf all around for

my company. The rust chasing

the steel off of the stove

Seasons they blow them in like

a gypsy wind. Travelers searching

for gold in this lost land

Copyright 2007