A HOUSE ATOP THE HILL

A poem about the mystery of the house atop the hill.

The house atop the hill
No one dares to trespass
No one dares to knock
For many stories have been told
Many mysteries unsolved
In the house that hovers above

Even the bravest dare not
Enter the gates that lead to its path
So it stands as a story book
Laden with torment and mystery
It is a book without an ending
The story of the house atop the hill

But I know the beginning
And I know the ending
Of the dark house that glistens in the moon

The mystery is, there is no mystery
The torment is my solitude
Alone, living in the house atop the hill