I own a cottage of thick wooden beams
It secures my memories, hopes, and dreams.
Lay my bed between its eaves
Within thick walls safe from theives.
Foundations strong of ancient stones
Shelves thickets of old tomes.

Beams now thick with rott
Furniture worm eaten and forgot.
Chimney chocked in black soot.
There's nothing more for left afoot.
I cannot part this place of mine,
Every memory stands still in time.

Woe to see it all come crashing down.
Heaped in lifeless, shapeless grey mound.
This thing I own posseses me
And gives us both away to entropy.