Ripped, tattered, shattered
the house sits upon the hill
dropped, popped, and locked
the grass dies slowly under foot
stoop, coop and poop
covers the driveway,
who lives here anyway?
The dark old home that once had so much love and joy is now covered in death and destruction. Darkness looms over the early century built home on the hill. It sits there staring at everyone, looming quietly over the town. What is it trying to tell us? Is there a purpose to this grey toned home? It leaves a vibration of sadness. The house feels the loss of the family who once lived inside its walls, wondering where they went. It sheltered them through many storms, inside and out. It is now alone. Nobody to protect, care for, cover. That poor house, I hope someone restores it and gives it its energy back.
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