This Old House
By Ruth Y. Nott
Copyright 2004
In this house I stood like a mourner,
stripped to the bone and bare,
while shadows lurked in the corners
knowing that no one cared.
Even the ashes had disappeared
rrom its cold, cold hearth of stone
and only cobwebs lingered here
hanging in the dark... alone.
Yet it took but a touch to rekindle the fire,
just a glance to stoke the flames.
Discovering anew the warmth of desire,
I softly whisper your name.
Now once again the die is cast
and fate brings love anew.
How can so many years have passed
without my arms around you?
