A Window Without a Face

Have you ever passed under the window

of an old, abandoned house?

Have you ever looked up,

yearning for a beautiful face

on the other side of the glass?

Something about once proud houses

now fallen into ruin

that makes you slow down your step.

A family once lived there.

A man or a woman built it with hope.

They are gone now.

They have rented it indefinitely to the silence and the cold.

Once proud, now falling apart, an old house weathers the storm waiting to be sold.

It weeps rain through the roof

It shivers through the cracked windows

It gathers dust.

Walk softly by it

so you won’t disturb the ghosts

who glance at you from the crumbling window

even as you go.

Who secretly wish you were the one

who will finally climb up the steps

and open the door.

4 thoughts on “A Window Without a Face

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