The Alien House on the Corner

The Alien House on the Corner, a shadow in the light, With windows dark and shattered, a mystery of night. Its lawn, a tangled jungle, untouched by human hand, A silent sentinel standing, in a familiar land. The paint, a peeling canvas, of hues both strange and gray, Whispers of a story, that words could never say. No laughter from its doorways, no cheerful, friendly sound, Just an eerie stillness, circling all around. The neighbors watch and wonder, with curious, guarded eyes, At the secrets held within, beneath the darkened skies. Do shimmering lights flicker, in the dead of night's embrace? Do whispers fill the silence, with a different, alien space? Is it a home abandoned, or a vessel from afar? A hidden, cryptic presence, beneath a watchful star. The Alien House on the Corner, a question in the air, A place where fantasy and fear, forever intertwine and share. Some whisper tales of creatures, with skin of silver sheen, And eyes that hold the cosmos, a sight both strange and keen. While others just avoid it, a place they won't explore, Fearing what might lurk within, forevermore. So stands the house, a beacon, of the unknown and vast, A constant reminder that mysteries can last. The Alien House on the Corner, a puzzle to behold, A story to be whispered, in voices soft and old.