OLD HOUSE
The old house stood tucked away on the main street,
Towering skyscrapers overshadowed the quaint, neat
Sparkling windows and the strong old fashioned door,
It was a shame that it was so easy for many to ignore.

One of the first big houses built in the city years ago,
Long before cars and large trucks rushed to and fro.
A time when horses clip-clopped and a bike or two,
Were the only traffic that you fought your way through.

A doctors home first, then a lawyer came there to stay,
He started his own business so his rent he could pay,
Did quite well, moved on, that is the tale that is told
About the lovely house, so different because it is old.

I noticed it walking, not easy to see from a car,
It was one of the most elegant homes I’d seen by far,
I wanted to knock at the door and be invited inside,
For my constant curiosity I found very hard to hide.

I read the hours on the door, all late at night I saw,
I tried the handle it was locked, then by the door,
I saw a sign that made me feel all sad deep inside,
And my sorrow and hurt I could not really hide.

It was a house of ill repute, it seemed a crime to me
That this stately home should harbour wicked revery,
I wonder how long ago that home’s heart died of shame,
I wish I had money to buy it to put all things right again.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson January 13, 2004