This old house on a forgotten road, sits quiet and lifeless don’t you know. It’s curtains are tattered, withered and worn. A tribute to a life but now forlorn.
Who lived here I must ask, a doctor, lawyers, or aristocrat. Did a civil war soldier on a dark day did lie on it’s porch to rest to stay out of the rain.
If it could just tell a story of what it’s halls hold. The laughter, the tears, the stories of old.
Where there sounds of children that once played here. The laughter while playing games or just simple tears.
Houses like these that are quiet and still, but they still have a story just ask if you will.
Through My Eyes 