A Yorkshire Poet Poet Dramatic Verse

It's Favourite Old Days

There it is
Our new home
Standing on the top of the hill
All alone

The track up to the house
Is laid of broken stone
The garden to the front
Once so beautiful now so overgrown

Many years have passed since anyone called this a home
Many nights it's seen so many people come and go
The parties they did have back in the sun and wonder days
When dancing filled it's hall and ball gowns were all the rage

Now it looks so lost in so many lost ways
Its architecture was of its time, is it hankering for those lost days?
It's windows look so black even under the Sun's brightest gaze! 

This house was once a home where a family lived for so many long days
But I don't think it wants us here, us with our modern ways!

This house is resisting us, resisting us in its own way
It's wants to be left alone to remember it's favourite old days
It's putting up a fight, haunting us until we go away

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