What’s Within That House?

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“That’s not my house,” I heard him say.
“No not mine, not any way.”
But what’s within I asked again,
A serious question not a whim?
“Nothing, nothing, not a thing,”
His answered as he turned around
And like a fine horse pawed the ground,
Gave little hope to me.
“They are all like that one,
Quite the same” he murmured on,
“They are but empty hopes
And empty dreams,
Failed un-fired bricks
And nothing to show for all that effort,
Rot infested beams.”
Surely not that house,
I pointed with my stick?
“Oh yes that house, they’re all the same,
Life’s hopes and wishes all undone.”
Come, come, I used encouragement,
Surely there’s a small gray cat
And some sweet maid with flowing hair.
“Oh yes once and bread and wine
And little mice just for the cat,
The cat she stroked upon her lap.
They had chairs
Large oak tables set in pairs.
Candles lit as nightfall come
Music made their merry fun.
At first out went the chairs
And tables to.
Two men came and drowned the cat,
[Don’t like em any shade of gray,]
Was all that others heard them say.
They eat and drank and munched the mice,
Then each in turn did use her thrice.
Screams will empty any house,
As bare and rot does echo back.”
He walked off not looking back,
I threw the key away,
For there was little more to say..
I’d ask another man upon another day.

  • Date: 30th May 2015