Laying awake - silence,
Nothing but the beat of your heart to the breathing rhythm of the tired house.
You sleep - the night goes slowly,
You dream.
Each time you wake - the house,
That benevolent house - is there to greet you.
Rubbing your eyes you see - the shadows of the rising sun,
That ever so graciously reaches out its long rays - to warm the branches of the lifeless trees.
Walking down the stairs you hear - creeks in the old floorboards.
For they have been worn down from the constant memories,
That have seeped into each little crack.