This Old House

Humming of old pipelines
Creaks of floor boards
Whirls of wind pounding against the window panes

Whispers of ‘whoos’ singing along with wind chimes
Crackles of ‘blip-drip’ from the basin of gorge
Squawking of ‘eeeks’ from the ungreased door hinges

A squalid stink raises a mist about the house
A fog of dust follows with the opened windows blowing around
A creeping cat lurks throughout the tall grasses in the unkempt yard, in bound

The decaying of architecture has aroused
And each fallen shingle broken as they fall down
Buzzing from bees sound out as if nested underground

The arid air arises to meet the sun’s heat
The wealth of wild weeds is nothing to be beat
The mocking mixed mitigation of crows squawking up sprees

Each fire fly flames among the tall grasses--- shows
All desolate doorways divert into labyrinths that grow
And for every engraved effect of the old --- no one knows

There are no paths that are ably seen
There have no more humans living here
There lays down only the creeps

The chimney collapsed and now ashes reek
Steps are missing going up the stairs
All has corrupted and now weak

This place will stand and topple to its end of days
Abandoned, but accompanied for all time
That’s all I can say...