Raindrops drift down the long hallway
The shutters shake, afraid of the silent sounds
The carpet sits apart from all, a lonely island broken
The stairs creak from forgotten feet, that run up and down
Ghosts draw dust along the bookcases and empty vases.
This house holds happiness inside, a photograph half developed
But lost with all the other important things
Lost, but waiting hopefully to be filled once again.
– Tegan Thuss