It creaks,
The house slowly settles;
You stare and are seen
Through dusty and splintering
Windows.
For something to be haunted,
Doesn’t it mean some
Ghastly force
Has invaded it
Or lingers past its time?
But what of when memories,
Those ephemeral and forever things,
Hang in the air like the dusty cobwebs?
Or when the structure,
With groaning floors
And weeping of the roof
Is what haunts you.