Faded flaked and peeling paint,
my colour once was vibrant
emerald green,
my letter box now seized with rust
when new was brass and gleamed.

My number it has long since gone
a pale green stain marks
where it was,
lying now with one rusted hinge
this once proud entrance way feels lost.

I stood tall to greet their visitors,
for sixty years or more
and now the house that I once fronted
will have no more guests
come through this door.