It sits alone
atop a hill,
It dances to the wind,
It sways but
there's no will.

So serene
it frightens,
So calm
it entices,

Inside 
I can live
Its empy corners
I can be. 

Because its voice
whispers to my ear,
Its voice claims my dear.

They speak of gentle stares
Stares of war and love
Stories of tears and endless balls
of the grand and the small.

And in their absence
you speak
Individually and passionately,
through the walls
and window cracks.

I picture you
out on the porch
with full eyes
empty house in demise
Please picture me
sitting in a corner
with closed eyes
a heart in disguise.

So that
I can whisper to your ghosts
sweet sensations
to pleasant souls 
Eternal stories
to make them whole. 

So we all 
we sit alone
we sit atop 
this lonely hill
We all dance
to the wind's blow
We all sway
then we sit still