This House is Old When I was born - seems long ago - This house already knew that woe And joy are mixed by time's slow flow. That mix (plus bricks) births quid pro quo A pact all ancient houses know... Old houses secrets keep, below Until a digger seeks to know And I know souls, so long ago Before my birth, in candleglow Moved through these rooms That I now know And climbed these stairs Uncertain? Slow? Their feet where my feet Now must go Here sounds, rebounding from these walls Here footsteps, voices, cries and calls Were bounced and caught like tennis balls This house, aware of what befalls Preserves those echoes, reinstalls The dry days and the waterfalls. I ask the house: the house recalls This man was, yes, a suicide This woman wept, no, not his bride This child beside the fireside Was beautiful, but full of pride This man requested, was denied This couple tried, and failed, and died But this girl lived a life of light Her days were golden, calm and bright And this boy, blessed with second sight Chose pathways that were always right Fate, it seems, can grant delight Or damn you to eternal night So in this house beside the sea I sift through my own life's debris Hear footsteps, voices, cries and calls Rebounding from my own life's walls And wonder, when I'm dead and free What will this house recall of me?
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John Ravenscroft says…
he´s English, far too old and a freelance writer (fiction and articles).
His website http://www.johnravenscroft.co.uk/1154.html has lots of goodies and information – much outdated but of everlasting interest. There´s even a mugshot of him under Welcome! And he plays a mean guitar – see his videos https://www.youtube.com/user/JohnMRavenscroft where his mugshot is even more current.