A Decaying House

I stopped in front of a decaying house That takes up some space on a busy road I stepped up on the porch - it's not my house It was not my house - never my abode Those are ferns in the garden doing well I would have planted those if it were mine So that I could see them through the window And smile that the plantings are doing fine I see the rosette hung above the door It needs a little sanding and some stain One of those chores that I would have put off - I would have promised again and again A wobbly staircase leads uncertainly Toward what seems to be a roof with a hole In the center- a patchable problem - And then I heard the whispers, bless my soul Children I never had whispered nearby In a decaying house I never owned With a garden that I never planted And a staircase of wood that moaned and groaned I leaned on my cane headed for the door It had been the right choice to stop and see The decaying old house close by the road Just two of a kind, the old house and me 7-15-20 Contest: The Decaying House Sponsor: Constance La France