This Old House

Boarded up and left alone

quietly sleeping on the hill

.drafty windows.

.weeping willow.

where I used to be

she’s not so sad to me, no.

she’s not so old to me


squeeking doors and scuffed up floors

tattered drapes

torn from their rods

songs and lies down every hall

but still there’s sweetness in this dust

Unfinished Song by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

More of Angie’s Poetry here:

4 thoughts on “This Old House

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s