Nobody's Home Poem by Sonia Walker

Slender, whispering and flaming firewood surrounds
the gray-weathered clapboards of the deserted
homestead whose torn gingham curtains blow among
the paneless windows with the gentle breeze of
summer morning.

Silence is challenged by harmonizing birds
who serenade the observer of the rustic
vista with the ardor of a courting lover,
cobwebs woven by a tireless spider hang
among the eaves and entryway catching
unsuspecting victims who dare cross the
threshold only to become the larder of the
eight-legged trapper.

Summer grass uncut falls beneath the soft
soles of the stealthy intruder as it muffles
the sound of the pounding heart anticipating
the unknown beyond the latched, warped and
wooden door of the abandoned abode,
cobwebs are cleared by a willow stick,
the frightened spider scrambles to safety furious
at the bold intrusion.

Slowly the rusty latch lifts- - what awaits the
curious visitor from within these walls,
footsteps echo throughout the house,
rooms are empty and pictures are gone,
family and mirth are ghosts of the past,
nobody's home to offer a cup of coffee,
nobody's home to say goodbye.