By the sea
I am the house
I am the house where sorrow lives.
The shades are drawn, lest it reveal
the chips and cracks for you to see
the parts that can no longer feel.
New paint would be a mockery,
unkept and dark, the inside is,
the lawn is cut, the bushes trimmed,
it has the look of peacefulness.
But sorrow's stored in many rooms,
the doors kept locked from prying eyes.
It is a house of haunted dreams
and in the night, soft sounds of cries.
Through windows, peeking at the world,
no visitors allowed within-
it is a dank and lonely place
since days of youth, has always been.
Within this gloom my spirit limps,
no candles burning in the night,
I know my way so well by feel
there really is no need of sight
The floors are sagging and the roof,
for age decays what's not well kept,
Across the hallway to the left
the room where childhood tears were wept
So many rooms, too many filled
that carry haunts from out the past,
so many keys to keep up with
So many memories to last
There is more depth to the heart than the mind can comprehend and it only has boundaries when we choose to fence it in.