There's a house on a hill, 
Who lives inside?

No-one.

Yet everyday there is noise,
Radiating from the halls.

The heat from inside melts the snow,
There must be people, surely.

Yet no light is there at night.

No smell of food, or hint of smoke
Filters up the chimney.

It is dead, at night.
  • InscritOctober 12, 2010

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