This Old Home

Old home of brick and wood. Full of history. Weathered brown. Shingles crumbling and falling from the roof. Windows faded and black, reflecting nothingness. Vines stretching and crawling to the roof. Leaves of green and russet, Ladders lean extended in the air. Only their tops can be seen. There is a small porch. Nature has enclosed that in green vines tied like a bow. Darkness shrouds the backyard. There is a skinny tree with limbs bent to caress the ground. It seems to stand guard for intruders. There is an eerie silence around this place. A mystery lies in this old home.