The Ivy House

As a relic of those bygone days, it sits alone and neglected With turrets high and shutters drawn its mystery story perfected Bay windows that at one time shone now dirty where dust has caught The front door still looks elegant but the paint has lost its gloss Standing above rounded steps with railing and boot scraper rusted deep Once opened by a servant in a white apron and lacy cap each guest to greet The walls when built were red brick strong, a sight for all around People wondered at those rich folks building in their little town At times in carriage and horses wrapped up in furs, they passed A sidelong glance to others was friendship enough to last Behind the walls, high lived that strange family in recluse Each day brought speculation from town gossip wild and loose The years went by and the children left for education no doubt The Lord and Lady of that house were never heard about Steeped in mystery with a hidden secret that house at the edge of town No amount of watching and hoping could pin their story down Suddenly it happened, an empty house the residents have gone The iron gates were locked and bolted no trespassers to go beyond But the owners need not have worried because nobody was brave enough To climb that wall and plunder in the garden wild and rough From tiny roots, the ivy grew and climbed with earnest glee The front was red brick one day and green the next you see It seemed that climbing plant was indeed hiding a secret deep Even the rooftop tiles it covered in an endless climbing creep Free of growth the windows like eyes watching never dimmed Staring blankly from out of a beard the owner had never trimmed