A Figure Stands There Iii

In the door in the house as it sits, dilapidated the weeds tangles ruined floors the door is a jar In the shadows of a vacant room Littered with castings form former wars The room is in deep shadows Tattered wallpaper flutters in the gentle breeze Eyes spark in the deep gloom Borrowing into your soul The yard is bare with broken toys scattered here and there Dark clouds on the horizon thunder deep in its heart. A figure stands there, lingering in the space between the seconds and minutes of reality.