I'm an old house...
My paint is cracked and peeling
You haunt my halls...
And make a mansion of me

You float through my archways
Cobweb shrouded doors
My floors groan under others' steps,
but you don't step, you glide...

My windows are broken and dirty,
but somehow your light gets through
My stairs are all a shambles,
but the second floor is yours

The walkway that leads to me...
It's lined with weeds,
but somehow your flowers grow

My welcome mat has long since rotted away,
but you may enter freely

Yes, I am an old house,
but you live in me anyway....

© Sabbra Cadabra