THE DESERTED HOUSE

The ash in the hearth’s gone cold
Dust and decay are members of the new household
And when the day’s spent, there is none to tell the stories of old

Nightfall has come
Daylight has gone home
The deserted house basks in the silvery full moon
With only the insomniac owl on the oil bean tree;
Seeing, but never to tell of all nightly things that come and are gone soon
In the grassy vicinity of the deserted house.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s