The Old House
Dim light shines through the widows of the old house
long since empty, where only dust dances in the air
and a lone mouse scurries across its scared and dirty floor
But sometimes at night, when a lonely wind moans and cries
faint echoes of the past are heard through out the rooms
as though while sleeping, the old house dreams of a lost time
In the parlor, a faint ticking from a wall clock as it counts time
while a childs laughter is heard as he runs through the house
chasing after the ghostly bark of a dog as it runs from room to room
and in the dark unused kitchen, the scent of fried chicken fills the air
recalling Sunday dinners and happier times, before the dying cries
the screams that echoed, and bright blood stained its polished floors
Now, all that is left is a faint red stain on its once prestine floors
broken and rotting from the wear of mother nature and passage of time
where the only true sound heard is a crows harsh and croaking cries
as it flies over the delapatated but once proud and stately house
leaving behind one black as soot feather floating in the warm air
to land on a window sill, as though looking in at the cold lifeless rooms
But still the house stands against time, and listened to each of its rooms
hoping to hear laughter once more, hurried steps across its wood floors
trying to shut out the screams of terror that still hang in the stale air
the feelings of hate, and anger that never seemed to disapate with time
pushing at the heart and soul, the very timbers of the sad and lonely house
until each small breeze that swirled around it sounded like broken cries
It doesn't know why the last sounds within its walls where terror stricken cries
or why the sounds of childrens laughter are no longer heard within its rooms
it only knows that it took one single day to make of it a horror house
all dead and empty with blood stains upon its dirt encrasted floors
held within an eternity that seemed to stop within a tick of time
and lingers there upon a breath of stale and purtrid air
Not so long ago, it stood so tall with pride and stately air
but rumors stirred with tales of ghostly lights and muted cries
till none would stand upon its floors or stay a minutes time
for all would tell of ghosts and such that walked its haunted rooms
and blood that stained for all of time its wooden floors
Such a sad and forlorn air that haunts its each and ever room
that now wrings cries of sorrow from the rotted creaking floors
Where once apon a time there stood a loved and happy house
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