The Little House

The little house stood all alone down by the shady brook and it seemed a happy place to those who stopped to look. No one could have seen the house it couldn't tell so how could anyone have known that things weren't going well. The house had once been happy with a family made of three a mother, father and a son had filled the house with glee. But as time marched along the father passed away the mother boarded up the house and took the child away. For many months the house sat there all alone no more to hear the family play the house was not a home. The empty halls would echo the air was cold with frost no one knew the memories the little house had lost. Alone and so forgotten the little house would sigh and pray for someone else to come in hopes that they would buy. Then one day it happened a family made of three moved into the little house and set its spirit free. *The first poem I ever wrote*