May 2013
Part II
Glass from the broken windows lies upon the floor
From somewhere there's the sound of a creaking door
Cracked wallpaper covered in dust
Silver trays that once held perfume now has turned to rust
Dusty books with yellowed pages
Have been sitting on those shelves for ages
Never to be read again
In the oil lamp's glow so cheerful and dim
Cracked paintings in dusty frames
Nothing here will ever be the same
Strange bygone memories fill the air
And all I can do is stare
And think back to when this house was pretty
And everything was charming and whitty
And of when somebody played the piano
And who used to fill the vase with flowers from the meadow
~Marian~
Glass from the broken windows lies upon the floor
From somewhere there's the sound of a creaking door
Cracked wallpaper covered in dust
Silver trays that once held perfume now has turned to rust
Dusty books with yellowed pages
Have been sitting on those shelves for ages
Never to be read again
In the oil lamp's glow so cheerful and dim
Cracked paintings in dusty frames
Nothing here will ever be the same
Strange bygone memories fill the air
And all I can do is stare
And think back to when this house was pretty
And everything was charming and whitty
And of when somebody played the piano
And who used to fill the vase with flowers from the meadow
~Marian~
