Moss Upon The Brick - Part 2

The children discover the ancient house
That townsfolk pass by quick,
A haunted place with summer weeds,
And moss upon the brick.

They sneak inside through an open door
That leads into a hall,
An empty spiderweb above
Is stretched from wall to wall.

They wander past the dining room,
That’s lit through broken panes,
The rug on the floor below the chairs
Is soiled by coffee stains.

The kitchen with its well-worn tiles
Is empty, dark and cold;
A hardened breadcrumb on the floor
Is covered with blue mold.

The children wander past the stairs,
They’re walking hand in hand;
They’re frightened by an old umbrella,
Discarded in a corner stand.

All at once the wind blows hard
And slams a door upstairs;
The children race back through the rooms,
Disturbing rugs and chairs.

Back home they run with screaming cries,
For Nature’s played a trick;
They’ll never come to play in the house
With moss upon the brick.

|| My Poetry ||