#WritcoPoemChallenge
Lost in time,
weaved with memories,
It was but an old house
A haven of hope.
A haven of dreams.
A haven for children.
As I stood and looked at the house,
It seemed so lonely and quiet now.
The windows were open and bathed in dust.
The hinges on the massive gates were all rusted.
This was the gate that held little children captives.
Suddenly I heard the voices of children.
Voices of innocent children playing like from afar.
They played like they had no cares or worries in the world.
But I heard a...