The Little House
The little house stood all alone
down by the shady brook
and it seemed a happy place
to those who stopped to look.
No one could have seen
the house it couldn't tell
so how could anyone have known
that things weren't going well.
The house had once been happy
with a family made of three
a mother, father and a son
had filled the house with glee.
But as time marched along
the father passed away
the mother boarded up the house
and took the child away.
For many months the house
sat there all alone
no more to hear the family play
the house was not a home.
The empty halls would echo
the air was cold with frost
no one knew the memories
the little house had lost.
Alone and so forgotten
the little house would sigh
and pray for someone else to come
in hopes that they would buy.
Then one day it happened
a family made of three
moved into the little house
and set its spirit free.
*The first poem I ever wrote*
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