The House now
quiet as a mouse now
and nothing stirring,

no whisper of crinoline
from the stairs,
no
rustling of papers from
Bazelgettes lair,
no
moaning
from Marley,
no
clanking of chains
and
it pains me to say
that
only the ghosts
are left today.

but deep in the walls and
hidden in picture frames
are the names and the faces
of those souls who had places
and somewhere that they called
their home.