On Blocks

Before me he looms
Lonesome and weatherd,
His paint flaking walls.

Inside he once harbored
A family
But Time passes by
And leaves him still standing,
Empty inside.

I look on in wonder and deepening remorse
At the splintered and chipping
Moss covered porch.

If I super impose
I suppose that I'll see
A family of ghosts
In the house before me.

For a moment
Life is restored
To his skeletal system
Of nails and boards
And a breath of contentment
Flows from his door.