Winters House
WINTERS HOUSE
Black, bare in despair
alone to nowhere
On a corner crossroads to everywhere
Sits a house half-forgotten
a house full of itself and memories
Dark and Bright in a place out of time
Out of sight, silent and rare.
Haunted with this and that
winter covers
its eves,
only bones of rats
Broken dolls, toys after a wars drone
Sits and fights the aftermath
Coldwind drifts
Downy flakes of winter cover its lawn
A frozen frosting in white
Something floats
aloft adrift in a sea
of purity infinity,
its shingles are a miss
The wind is brisk
Something shutters sits still
Here in the middle of nowhere
In silence of graves
only Ravens rave of wars
Past victories won
Birth barely begun
lives lived out fast
And only the winters last
A winters house full of nothing and everything
Of fragments of memory,
furniture tattered, worn
Bits of cloth, torn
on drafts born cold wind scorns
Dishes cracked crazy in filigree
Photographs faded at last
Ferment of history
A winters House
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