Sun upon a sullen dull window. no one knows the behind of a never open curtain, the clunk of feet over years pausing on the cobbled path in silent stop for ten seconds gradually stepping away.
Slow the clunk fading as distance grows inside, dry rot faded and almost silent but for an old mouse and dry spiders, wood weevils, pocket mounds of sawdust in tidily hillocks splodged on a crappy floor every living creature has to find a home the staircase rotten, it stops life going upstairs. That don’t reside inside you, may never escape.
Bash all you care for you will never alight to the other side of the walls because something had happened that no one will ever know the light of a family, as ghosts are now on show.
