A Little Lost, A Little Found.

The Mansion. Pt. 1

I am a mansion, strong built and sturdy,

 but I am neglected, vine-filled and dirty.

 I've had many owners, one, two, and three, 

but I am now abandoned, vine-filled and free. 

I'll sing you a song, though it might sound coarse,

 as I am old, cold, and sing like a horse. 

My gardens are bare, cold, and untamed,

 but so is the mailbox, cold and unnamed. 

My gates were built tall, built to last, 

but that was when we were stuck in the past.

 The birds do not sing their graceful song,

 as the birds and the notes do not get along.

 The dogs chase the ducks, and they run away quacking,

 Yet when the people come to visit, they run away gagging.

For I am a mansion, strong built and sturdy,

 still neglected, vine-filled and dirty.

I am crumbling and tumbling, falling all alone, 

I wish someone would call me their home.

 But nonetheless I wait, patient and still, 

for where there's a way, there is always a will.