In the heart of woods, under sky so dome,
Lies an old house, left to time's harsh roam.
Its bricks crumble, walls sigh and bend,
Whispers of its past, in the wind they blend.
Once filled with laughter, love, and light,
Now stands alone, a ghostly sight.
Families lived, loved, children played,
In its embrace, life's tapestry laid.
But years have passed, it's now forlorn,
Its warmth and joy long ago torn.
Rooms empty, memories fade,
Under the weight of time's cascade.
The wind now sifts through broken pane,
Stirring memories, like forgotten refrain.
What tales it holds, of days aglow,
Only the old house, and the wind, truly know.
Old house
© Copyright: Виталий Стадников, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124031104532
Свидетельство о публикации №124031104532
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