A casket of broken views in what
was once elegance, now but cut
to thin shards of what it once was
a home. Now all but skeletal because
the view sullen in there departed thoughts.

Windows to the soul of a home desolate
in greetings, a ragged cloth does wait static
as if the wind dare not to tamper indoors.
But only cartilage of wood is viewed from shores.

It still wanders on the landscape in static motion,
doors still shut to viewing but in tarnished notion
once  in elegance it was perceived but no more.
As it sits abandoned, dilapidated is its décor.