Still & Quiet

My old house stands still and quiet,
save for all the ghosts that linger,
who miss me and mine and all our noise,
those sounds that shall forever linger.

The tall sycamore trees out front,
that bathed us in the shadow of their branches,
and swayed the long driveway all the way back,
to the broken down fence where my best friend lies,
his deep brown eyes forever closed.

My roses drooped and dry as bone,
bare of color to match my emotions,
of laughter and tears and put upon notions,
earth to earth; all decomposed.

Pennies pressed into worn pavement,
memories from our years of life,
sons and daughters, me and my wife,
save for all the ghosts that linger,
My old house stands still and quiet.