Sitting alone
In a dark house,
I'm the only one awake,
Obviously.
I close my mouth,
Open my ears,
And listen
To this old home's
Old tales.
Each creak of the floor
Was once the thud
Of young, quick feet.
Every surge in the pipes
Once was tear
Of any kinds.
The fan quickly whirls,
Too speedy for sound
But the drone
From electricity.
This house is too old
To ever be silent.
This house is too old
To make me feel alone.