This house holds forty years.
Shadows lurked and watched whilst
Life went by, ignoring them,
Tears ingrained to the floorboards,
Cries soaked into the walls,
Rain beat the house into its shapened discolouration.
Darkness stays to befriend the house, defeated, she surrenders.
A carpet of dust settles on the floor.
Silent her sinister habitants live, watching, waiting.
All over she had small souvenirs of previous friends,
A car plate put proudly on a wall,
A painting whose artist has gone on,
Dried flowers that aged daily, rotting, scenting
Unused pencils in a hidden drawer,
Notebooks filled with thoughts stashed away,
Their existences misplaced forty years.