The Abandoned House
The house lies abandoned,
neglected it stands;
no one to remember
its glory once so grand.
The gardens and orchards
that stood to surround,
bursting with colour
and fruits to abound;
now desolate and bare,
in silence do stand;
ashamed to lie barren
with acres of land.
And the ivy does creep
without much inhibition,
on walls with peeling plaster
for a brazen exhibition.
Devoid of all shutters
with broken window- panes,
the rooms do reveal
their neglect with much shame.
And spiders dare enter
when men choose to leave,
with care and precision
their webs they then weave.
Much dust does settle
when footsteps refrain
to walk on these grounds,
now silent in pain.
The house lies abandoned,
neglected it stands;
no one to remember
its glory once so grand.
The gardens and orchards
that stood to surround,
bursting with colour
and fruits to abound;
now desolate and bare,
in silence do stand;
ashamed to lie barren
with acres of land.
And the ivy does creep
without much inhibition,
on walls with peeling plaster
for a brazen exhibition.
Devoid of all shutters
with broken window- panes,
the rooms do reveal
their neglect with much shame.
And spiders dare enter
when men choose to leave,
with care and precision
their webs they then weave.
Much dust does settle
when footsteps refrain
to walk on these grounds,
now silent in pain.