A time long past

The old house sighs, a weathered frame, Beneath a sky of fading flame. The wind whispers through broken panes, Of lives long past, and lingering pains. A rocking chair, a silent sway, Recalls a time, now far away. A faded photograph, a gentle smile, A story etched, for a little while. The garden sleeps, beneath the moon, Where roses bloom, in silent June. A rusted swing, hangs still and low, A childhood's echo, soft and slow. The shadows lengthen, as day takes flight, Leaving behind, the fading light. The old house waits, in quiet grace, For memories to fill this empty space.