The House

The house The empty house, still empty stands No sounds within, no living It feels the emptiness which haunts The mood is unforgiving Once little feet and little hands The bigger ones, the old All touched and stroked the inner walls The feet walking real bold All gone and left, and time stood still Now silence has its way With doors, and walls, and windowsills The floors untouched they lay Now strange new sounds are heard within Just listen and you’ll hear The moaning of a house that longs For those whom it held dear. Wendy Nipas