21 September 2012
Derelict and dishevelled, Crumbling and abandoned, Alone against the wind, rain and sun, Stands the old house.
Ivy crawls deftly up the body of the house, Tightening it's grip, it's influence. The windows are cracked or broken through, The icy wind flows easily through the gaps.
The inside does nothing to sooth the uneasiness of the outside view, A confirmation of the love that left long ago. Wallpaper ripped and hanging limp, Photo frames litter the cold, grey floor.
The stairs scream in disapproval as you climb to the landing, The doors hang loose from their hinges, A depressed salute to the unlucky viewer, Who would ever want to live in a house like this?
The Old House • Opuss № I