Padding across these creaky boards,
Early morning light bleeding through these windows,
This lonely old house wakes up to the day,
Thoughts come slowly through the morning fog...
Kittens purring for morning milk,
The fog slowly lifts, the sun winning at last,
Many options for the day, wanting none of them,
Memory flashes scenes on the mind...
There were days when this house was filled,
With laughter and pitter-patter feet,
Games played and plans made here,
Such things have gone from here, for now...
Love when strong, can frighten as well as comfort,
Committment so caring, sometimes spooks it's prey,
Perfection can appear not available to the unworthy,
Fear and indecision can become decisions by default...
Is it too late to open the doors and let in the sun,
Has the time passed to throw open the windows to the wind?
The clock ticks, and the fire smokes, and the floor creaks,
Damn this lonly old house...