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