Once in its life, the house down the road,
Found itself full of life,
with children and dogs,
And parents and friends.
And never a hint of strife.
But sadly those days, they came and they left
And now the house sits alone.
With porches bare,
And shades all drawn,
And the door, held shut with a stone.
Up in the attic, birds flutter around,
While out in the yard, grass grows tall.
And cars rattle by,
But nobody stops,
To give the old house a call.
So the days go past, and the years slip by,
And somewhere someone does roam,
And I wonder if ever
A quiet thought comes,
Of the house, they used to call home.
