This old house
holds cracks in the roofing tiles,
letting the ever flowing
waters of doubt seep in.
Brickwork shell breaks
A little more
every time the air
starts breathing wheezily
Guttering leaks
soaking the pathway
in dripping misery.
Warped windows
offer up a twisted view.
The unkind world
throws it all back at you,
more screwed up
than your smeared vision
could ever do.
Old bricks
given a new facade,
but underneath
rot still chews up
the insides,
leaving behind
crumbled fragmental bits,
that stick to the pavement
like a jagged bear pit.
Old hand-painted sign dangles
crooked, like it has caught its jumper
on the door handle trying to escape,
but inside you can feel warmth
easing through the rooms,
you can taste memories
sifted like flour through
the wooden beams above.
You can smell love
in the perfumed air,
this is a house that cares.
The echo
of excited voices
flutter like butterflies
through the window shutter,
Happy to be inside,
happy to be someplace kind.
The deceptive shell
hides so many stories for you,
if you ignore the view
and start to unwrap
its many mysteries.
Outside it reeks of misery,
inside the place
really shares its history.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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