An Old Abandoned House

An old abandoned house,
White frame, stands on the hill
And looks down here on me.
A feeling always still Lingers about its walls
Each time I look around.
The windows, vacant, stare.
There never is a sound. And yet it seems to live.
Its memories float inside
In rooms I cannot see,
A former life to hide Of some time in the past
When children's voices called
Where grasses now stand still
And dead tree limbs are sprawled. I wonder on the house,
The life that once was there.
But it stands silent, mocking me,
Continuing to stare.

by Kay Whitaker

Other poems of KAY WHITAKER (1)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.