The House Of Shadows. Poem by Sandra Kavanagh Josefsson

The house of shadows,
was hidden away,
in the new forest
and at the light of day,
you might catch a glimpse,
if you looked to the east
as the sun danced on the broken window panes
and teased.

And in the corridors you could hear a lightly spring of
steps.
A door slamming shut,
and tears that were wept.

And in the shadows you could make out,
the outlines of people that were once about.
Maids in their uniforms,
children at play.
Grandmothers having their tea in the middle of the day.

Smells of baking in the kitchen downstairs.
The small tinkle of tea cups as their owners enjoyed,
their afternoon pleasure before everything became void.

And in the evening the piano played,
you could hear the lilting music
as the curtains swayed.
A couple would dance on the patio,
oh it was along time ago.

In the parlour an old grandfather pondered over some
books.
On the top of the stairs some
children were peering down,
seeing what was happening
until their mother appeared in her gown.

The house of shadows never went to sleep.
The sound of laughter heard so deep.
Within its walls those that remain,
are here to stay sun, wind or rain.

Verse: Sandra Kavanagh (c) .