The old house which heard my first cry
Now stands abandoned, 
If only it could speak, 
It would surely ask "why?" 

The fencing that I made with my grandfather
To protect our house from intruding animals 
is now broken. 
And it's now a home for all those
Who were once completely forbidden. 

The old house that once echoed with the laughter
Now weeps in silence. 
The roofs that protected us through all the seasons
Are now open to them without reason. 

The garden where enjoyment once danced
with the swirling flowers, 
Lays the debris of jollity in the heap of hay
outside the tower.
The path that were kept clean and shoved 
Have now overgrown in absence of
my grandmother's behove.

The rooms that once gleamed with the smile of people
Now only has darkness to fill that steeple. 
The windows that were used 
to call us home by the evening, 
Have become the gates for the past for grieving. 

The old house is long abandoned
But there remain the memories of my childhood 
that were grand. 
A rusted merry go round, and swing in the corner, 
Are all the things that are left for me to be a mourner. 

The walls of the house have hidden each of our secrets, 
The pot in which grandma hid money, 
The small secret box where grandpa hid his cigar, 
And the place in the backyard where I hid my toys. 

The edifice may have crumbled a bit, 
But the pillars held it together in firm. 
I wish I could make the walls spill, 
All its secrets grim and yearn. 
And it would sing me lullabies 
Of the buried memories, in return.