My Old House
Memories occupy stone walled spaces
Stalking the very fabric of its rooms
Ghosts of the centuries display their gloom
Lives unfulfilled leaving vapour traces
Heart of oak beams take the strain with good grace
Remnants of galleons surviving booms
Rescued from battle weary watery tombs
Ancient mortise and tenon out of place
Memories of my life in this dwelling
Mingle unashamed without fear or fright
Feelings ancient and modern awoken
All tell a story worthy of telling
All interweave the darkness and the light
All stories are told no words are spoken
Mike O’Leary - April 2016
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