Little House On The Hill

 Abandoned house standing in the overgrown
path with faded (dull) gray sideboards,
that were once bright white with life.

Shutters hanging at awkward angles,
flapping in the wind,
banging against the house with creaking determination.

Darkened dusty windows,
looking sad and lonely,
yet forbidding entry
to passersby.

Door hanging ajar on it hinges,
as if the last exit was in haste.

Sagging roof with missing tiles,
hanging gutters,
proof of neglect
for many years.

Rotted porch,
sagging downward
with scattered broken furniture,
covered with cobwebs and debris.

Life has come and life has gone.
Time has gone by
with no one to tend it,
happiness in its past,
for it will never feel love again.

Anne Crawford