Voices echo through her halls
In solemn prayer.
Footsteps echo on the stone floor
As memories stride by.

Music floats down the corridors
Ringing gently, as strings stroked by wind.
Shapes and shadows haunt each room,
Ghostly visitors from long ago.

The House is dark, forgotten and alone.
Crumbling stone and creeping vine
No more than a dreary decoration.
Drifting memories her only companion.

She sits in silence, remembering...
Children playing on her stairs,
Warm scents of cakes filling her halls,
A time when laughter rang out.

Once grand, once tall
Now stooped and bent, an aged woman.
Cobwebs like clinging curtains drape her windows.
Silence hangs in the air--a desperate stillness.

She longs for the sun to touch the oaken walls,
The wind to waft through open doors,
Blowing in the sweet delicate scents
That summer carries in her arms.

Seasons change, winter to summer.
People pass her by, never pausing.
Rain falls, warping wooden steps,
Trickling down her windowpanes like tears.

Trailing memories fill the attic,
Murmuring, whispering, longing
For long forgotten peace.
Longing for family, for legacy.

Haunting silver strains, songs fading into silence,
Reminiscent of her last days of happiness.
She is empty, void of joy...
A shell to the end of her days.