#WritcoPoemChallenge
Lost in time,
weaved with memories,
It was but an old house...

Standing still, with whispered stories,
Each creak and groan, a symphony,
Of lives once lived, now quiet as a mouse.

The walls, adorned with fading paint,
Held secrets of laughter and tears,
Echoes of joy and echoes of pain,
Ghosts of the past, calming fears.

In the attic, forgotten treasures hide,
Trunks of heirlooms and faded photographs,
A silent witness to the passage of time,
Capturing moments, like a time machine's crafts.

Through broken windows, sunlight streams,
Illuminating dust dancing in the air,
As if the house itself dreams,
Of days when it was full of love and care.

In the overgrown garden, flowers bloom,
Nature reclaims its place with gentle grace,
Where children once played, chasing doom,
Now nature takes over, at its own pace.

The old house stands as a monument,
To the passage of time and the stories it holds,
A silent sentinel, with memories bent,
In its embrace, the past unfolds.

So, let it stand in quiet reverence,
A relic of days gone by,
For in its aging magnificence,
The echoes of history never truly die.
© c.wright