Living in an empty house

My empty house echoes voices in my dreams 
Voices which are lost and abandoned..
Shadows lingers on the walls
Touching my skin ..falling over dark damp floors 
As I wake up from the slumber, pale and lonely , sunlight penetrates my skin through the window..
The bed , tables and chairs all I have 
The books and the shelves , cups and the dishes ... the dust and the moist ..all are mine.
The empty house sometimes echoes tales of fallen lives..lonely beings
The tinkling of tea cups and smoke from the oven make the morning...
The old clock keeps on ticking ..
The twilight slowly vanishes as darkness befall on the earth .. 
I sit beside my little window , witnessing the buzzing city below.. 
As I slowly walk back to my table to pen down my thoughts 
Silence reminds me there is none to hear..