She sleeps in the raw in the
house on the hill
and only stirs when the cool
breeze from the open
window chills her

opening one eye she see it's still
dark outside and grabbing the covers she sinks
deeper into sleep in the house on the hill

fading, wandering, dangling on the
edge of morning she awakens rested and
full of the morning sunshine
listening to the birds as she walks naked through
the house on the hill

humming as she washes the sleep from her eyes
and seeing her naked body in the mirror as she dries her face
she wonders how long will the house on the hill
withstand
the turmoil like pain and suffering
that life bestows upon us making us weak like
aged wood

who suffers more, the house on the hill or
human life?
each has it's own life span but as long as the house
on the hill can withstand so shall I but not without change.

copyright@2007 Madeline C. Baxter