This house
Where the past blends into its faded walls
And whispers lay forever still below the floorboards
It’s once glorious shine
Weathered by years of changing seasons
A fresh coat of paint would work well to hide the imperfections
Softly veiled windows
Reveal silhouettes of a life in progress
But only offer slight protection from prying eyes
Behind the walls
Muffled voices determine the mood of the day
And the safe keeping of private moments
