This House
Clouds are weeping at my door,
puddles tearfully trickle in
moonlight falls, whisper thin.
Shingles chatter on the roof,
winter sends her lonely kiss
restless winds, a soulful hiss.
Tousled twigs caress the windows,
shattered leaves sorrow down
willows writhe, orchids frown.
Shutters sigh outside these walls,
thunder moans in evening gloom
wilted love, she cannot bloom.