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Poem

I walked upon the road
Towards an old house on a hill
The gate was rusted, broken
Its hinges creaked in the summer wind

The path was filled with flowers and wild grass
The house looked empty, shuddered up in fear
I walked up this path of broken dreams
To peer into the windows 
They were shattered, sagging, and tattered

This house on a hill, called to me
Come see all that used to be
And I could not resist this calling
Of what may have become of me

A Lady in white, sat upon an ottoman chair
Her Swedish braids, her smile, in her den and lair
She opened her finger, and in silence said come in
She offered up a Smörgåsbord of dreams unfulfilled

Her smile was filled with shattered dreams
For the house was soulless an empty
She lived in the past, a mere ghost of the moment
As she rose up from her chair, and kissed the night
I touched her cheek, softly, in the candle light

She was cold, skeletons and bone
She sang a song, of joy and passions told
She weaved about, in a seductive fashion
She was a ghost of long lost love


I closed my eyes
In this old house
Melancholy memories floating away
Full of regrets, in a midnight sun 
She sang her last song............
Our last summer

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