The crystal explosion of light
Silent and still behind glass
Its face to the street
Gazing at its own reflection
There is a ghost in the corner who longs to smash it
A river runs in the hallway, flowing through to the street
Words of passion in these walls fade to murmurs
And eyes once bright have gone to black
Raindrop touches linger on the wooden veins
The sand storm assault eating away at iron bars
Stairs to the attic fresh with footsteps
Which passed over them long ago
Faces in the mirror, voices in the hall
The edges of the world grow thin here
Where the clouds pass over each day to bring new rain

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro from Pexels