DESERTED

nephilim56

Paint is peeling
From tired walls
Rosewood furniture
Standing tall.

Windows glass
Shattered, missing
Photographs slanted
History kissing.

A distant past
Memories flow
Half hidden in dust
Eyes which know.

Invisible now
To those who visit
The floorboards creak
To the feet of spirit.

 

  • Author: nephilim56 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 16th, 2024 11:49
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 7
  • Users favorite of this poem: Alan R
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