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It is dreary here and
Quite cold and wet
A terrible draft as well.
It’s very dusty here
And the cobwebs
Are the only art
The floors creak
With the rafters
Harmonically
And the roof leaks
There’s no glass
In any of the
Windows
Weeds grow through
The corner of each
Room.
There’s dirty dishes still in the sink
The clothes still hang on the line
And the dog still begs at the door
The mal is filling up the box
And the garden is dead
At day it’s very quiet
While the sun beams violence
And at night it’s still quiet
While the moon glows vibrant.
Its home and were all invited.