The Old House Poem by Sicelo Sithole

Here is to the house now old
Inside rest all the stories untold
It is a place where all our good memories were mold
Storms of hunger, pain and death came by but the dignity was never sold
Inside towers of riches within hearts were built and they surely worth more than gold
Here is to the house now old, a place where my sense of origin forever hold
Matters of the old life I never knew in my youth bold…matters of death now watching us in great fold