House

I could feel the house watching me

It’s huge windows acting as eyes staring me down.

I could hear it calling my name 

The old boards and supports creaking with the wind.

I could see it reaching out to me

The two dead oak trees leaning toward the sidewalk.

I could feel the house trying to suck me in

The wind blowing past me and in through the front door.

I could see the inhabitants

The shadows roaming the abandoned halls.

I could see the house smiling at me

The porch bent from rot in the middle.

I could read the house like a story

The scars from abuse and fire long before I was born.