I Write Poetry

A Haunting House


Down a little country road
Sits a house where no one lives
It always seems to stare at me
Like a love who can't forgive

A ghostly curtain flutters
Through a broken window pane
The wind blows through and sounds
Like a distant lonely train

A picket fence once held in
A yard that's over grown
The fence now lies in tatters
It's color now unknown

A walk leads to the front steps
And on it lies a boot
As though the owner left there
With the devil in hot-pursuit

On the porch hangs an old swing
Just begging for a shove
At times it swings and sways
Pushed by remembered love

Strung between the rafters
A web of spider's lace
To wave free in the breezes
Then fall back into place

Pieces of an old chimney
Still climb the parlor wall
Empty nests now fill the spaces
In the gaps where bricks would fall

An old doghouse lies in shadow
Beneath a skeletal tree
A chain still stretches away
Though the dog has been set free

Hanging from the tree limb
A tire on nylon rope
Spinning slowly and sadly
No children and no hope

The place always seems to beckon
As though anticipating
And though I never went inside
I know it's still there......waiting