If walls could talk.

If walls could talk.

Winter has come and the wind and the rain
...Wash over the house in the glen.
It cradles itself as if it were cold
For no one still lives within.

The years have passed over it, leaving it aged
And empty, and lost, without heart,
With no one to live there, no one to care
And the leaves are piled up on the hearth.

If you stand in the doorway, you can feel
Soft music that hangs in the air,
Like the soul of the house that ever lives on
Though there’s no longer any to hear.

The door is now gone, the windows un-paned,
The wood on the roof has gone slack.
But it still lingers on, as if waiting for
The people it loved to come back.

The old house listens, and waits, and sings
As the wind blows in through the door
And the beat of the heart of the house still sounds
Like the tread of their feet on the floor.

Kate Wiley

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kim reigada says ... on Sunday, Mar 13 at 3:54 PM

Very nice and sad !!!! Great photo

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