ABANDONED

It is not the house
that is haunted.
I am walking by and see it
standing there, roofless, 
cement walk broken, front door
faded and peeling, half hidden
behind overgrown shrubbery,
looking helpless and ashamed.
I know those feelings.

This house was built to be grand - 
the wide porch, arched
windows, graceful railings.
It was built to be loved.

Who could have lived here?  
Perhaps a girl like I was - 
eating breakfast in this kitchen,
dancing on these floors,
standing on this porch
waiting for friends to come by
in their cars,
sitting on these steps
with her boyfriend
after the prom.

Now the house is silent -
made fun of by the passage of time.
But there are no ghosts here.  
It is not the house
that is lonely.

I am lonely.





			Lucille Murphy