Old standing

Old standing

Creaking walls in older houses,
In halls have echoes of memories.
Dust coat fogged windows,
Weathered timber lost with the robbers.

Above all the treads shriek,
Dead, near ghost calls.
Cobwebs dot forgotten rooms,
Shadows find pleasure in silence gloom.

But within those bones there is a spark that burns from love and laughter and pain.
Keeping alive during the night, the heart beats softly.
An oath keeper for everything lawful inclining.

The old house's name, although covered in the frail curve of time,
Still lives within the bosom of memory.
One day it might fall away from the sky,
But it has always been a beating heart and continues to dream.