Decaying
Somewhere down the dusty lane
lies a vacant, run down house.
The withering walls surround
the tiny footprints of a mouse.
Shattered windows forget
the tender gleam of yesterday.
While a blanket of common dust
paints the rotten timbers gray.
Shadows haunt empty rooms,
displaying scraps from the past.
As the wind howls in hollow halls,
weeping for a monument unable to last.
In the woven cobweb of endless time,
all mortal things must rust and decay.
Mortar crumbles and roofs collapse,
for man made things aren't meant to stay.
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