The house on the corner

The street I live; there’s a house upon

Dull, colourless it looks like a jail

The letter box is filled with untouched mail

Rubbish is strewn across a messy lawn

There’s cars parked outside but no one goes in

Paint’s peeling and the roof’s in disrepair

Can’t recall when someone was living there

And the front door is always left open

Through the windows reveal a sorry scene

There’s trash on the floor. Furniture long gone

And when the night falls no curtains are drawn

The only light comes from a TV screen

Is anyone living there? Who can tell?

But the house keeps its secrets guarded well…

11th April 2012