In A House That Mourns Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

In this house where shadows like old age
are cast and hidden under a big oak tree
life had a different pace in the days gone by;
this used to be a joyful place
but only the photographs against the wall
is a reminder of a better life.

Everything is now tattered and rundown
and the woman who was the fairest in the neighbourhood
has lost her fight against the aging
and like the house she is broken in both body and mind.

Both the lady and the garden gate are hanging:
she on a walking frame
and the gate is skew on its hinges.

The house was always tidy and clean
but now there is dust everywhere,
the lady's hands are stiff and there is too much to do,
the air inside is almost mouldy
as if the sun has shunned this place.

It looks as if this house is part of a fairy tale
and you expect this place to come alive
as a answer to your thoughts
and the door opens and the woman appears
as if set up at the door of a cuckoo clock
and outside weavers are waiting on their crumbs of the day