Haunter's Haven (1982)

This old home site with parceled acres

now a shattered, scattered dream.
An odious aura, like clinging mist
leaches life while haunters teem.
A malignant manse, once serene
substance siphoned by tenants greed,
dressed in withered silvered slats
a pithy base where termites feed.
Lifeless shingles slip their niche
shoot the slope to ring the ground.
A red bricked chimney devoid of plumes
the roof wears a crumbled crown.
The aproned porch in tattered trim
hold the memories of yesterday.
Baseboards creak and groan in despair
to warn uninvited away.
Time-warped whispers; child-like voices
waft through musty rooms.
Moldy panels and peeling walls
enhance the ghostly gloom.
The silvered panes in wasted windows
glint with accusing eyes
they saw the coming of the end
what life was left has died.
Fretting fringes of conifers
bold North Wind strums his harp.
His throaty tune, a lilting moan
chills the air piercing and sharp.
Impotent with rust, door hinges scream
in painful protest of creeping night.
Empathic owls cry frigid hoots
while yon moon spills an eerie light.
A formidable front door beckons entry
it's welcome grown bowed with age
entreating fingers of grasping vines
try to contain the rage.
The wind echoes cries of "Nevermore"
reminiscent of Edgar's raven.
A once proud home nibbled by time
has become a haunter's haven.