A Tale Old Mansion

By Cynthia Wilson

I was standing in the empty hallway,

Which seemed so void without the age-old antique dust.

Of long laid and forgotten furniture.

Shelves which bore the history of time.

Walls which hung all our happy memories.

It was the manor of reminiscence.

Each door made of royal Oak

Told its long stories of a happy family.

But little did it know

That today was the day

The mansion saw the last light of the earth.

For tomorrow it is going to enter the pages of the past.

Where each laid tile and brick

turned to dust.

Each room which told its tales

Structureless.

But the gift of the present the mansion gave.

Remains an ineffable joy.

Looking back, with tears in my eyes, and a content on my face,

I would have the courage to say that’s the house I lived in.

By Cynthia Wilson