It sits at the end

of a street

made of dirt

Once somebody’s dream

a sweet home

and warm hearth

The windows all paneled

in bright colors galore

desiccated pieces upon the floor

Ghosts gather round

in ethereal shrouds

up and down the shabby old stairs

Patient as they wait so close

ramshackle hosts bound

to a ramshackle home

No where to go unable to roam

invisible chains hold their invisible forms

unheard cries from those so old and forlorn

In the far distance the dogs

barking their ancient songs

of families now lost and forever gone