The wind entered in
through a crack in the door,
the route it went out
was likewise down along the floor -
the rain it came
through the roof with a leak,
reeling from the ceiling
right on down the kitchen sink -
then the snow began to blow
through a loose window pane,
swirling about and then back out
by way of the same -
a mouse beside the house
at a hole came prancing in,
quickly finding a treat to eat
it went right back out again -
the glory of this sad story
is quite easy to see,
let it be known when you have an old home
all that is out wants to come in, but only momentarily.
Old houses have the greatest character and could tell many tales if they could - good one Smoky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sounds like my old house, including the mouse. A memorable write that takes me and many others back. You brought this inanimate object to life, .Enjoyable