My house

29 3 0
                                    

The damp dark shadowed gates role over

Going around creaking, cracking, coaxing you closer.

Black draped cloaks upon the panes,

I stare through from the different lanes.

The whole thing is dark dank and black

Everything is as dark as midnight

When the trees turn to the right

Like the swamp of murmurs that lay at the front

But as you go up to the hunt

They open the door with a smile to welcome you in to my home

PoemsWhere stories live. Discover now