The House Silent

In a house full of shadows, she wanders the halls,
Where the echoes of laughter once painted the walls.
Her footsteps are whispers, her voice barely heard,
A song of longing, without a single word.

The sun through the window, it barely does shine,
On a life that feels distant, no longer divine.
The clock on the mantle ticks on, without care,
As she sits in the quiet, her heart in despair.

Once she was vibrant, a flame burning bright,
Now she’s a ghost, fading out of sight.
Her dreams, like old curtains, have gathered the dust,
In a house where the silence has long earned her trust.