The Shrouded House (Inspired by ‘When Marnie Was There’ by Joan G. Robinson)

Tucked away by a shroud

of blue-silver trees

is a house. Honeysuckle

clings to one side, sucking at the foundations,

and ivy to the other,

attempting the same, but

it is still too young to force

the bricks and mortar to crumble.

How old the house is, no-one quite knows,

and nobody wonders anymore.

It has simply always been,

part of the landscape of the sleepy village,

like the trees, the marsh, the hills

and the little creek that trickles

beside the gravel path.

Villagers move away and return,

families grow and people die.

The house watches it all,

making no comment except

to occasionally flap its shutters in the wind,

waving goodbye to old friends.

 

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