The house is empty, alone and forlorn,
Abandoned on the hill by the bay.
Cracked eyes crying tears of dirt and age.
Ghost-child’s laugh that echoes without
From a rusted old swing in the yard.
Toy doll forgotten,
Precious no more, alone in the cold and dark.
The dusty smell of long empty rooms,
The peeling patched paint on broken walls.
Love and family long gone from its halls.
A place of warmth and hearth and home,
Its grandeur fallen by the way,
A fortress no more,
The old house on the hill by the bay.