Thursday, December 8, 2016

THE OLD HOUSE




The old house stands alone,
dark and deserted,
on the overgrown lawn.
A wind rustles through the fallen leaves.
The only sound in the dead silence.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
No sounds of life to lift the spirits.
Only the dead for company.
Their spirits walk the house.
No footsteps to break the quiet.
For the dead don’t leave footprints.