Poetry

Old House

Cracked gray stairs,
weathered porch –
broken boards leave holes to nowhere.
Battered door,
last latched many years ago;
I enter, and the world falls away.
Peeling-paper-covered walls,
fallen shelves, dusty mantle,
awaiting resurrection or death
and neither comes.
Life is gone; oblivion hangs
like a curtain that cannot close.