Olden Bones Poem by Eric Paeplow

This old house has seen the years go by, one by one
From births and deaths, to babies born and children on the run
Both nights on the porch and early morning walks
The stories you could tell, if only walls could truly talk

The lives you've held, within the warmth of your hearth
As the crackle an glow lit your rooms and warmed their souls
Of seasons past and days gone by, to the lives you've held inside
Your walls and roof and windows too, are still awake and alive

Though mere ghosts now remain, of the lives you once sustained
Memories made of love and loss, all remain here, within your walls
And the whispers on the wind and the groans of your olden bones
Are all still here, if only we would stop to listen to what you have to say

Although your peeling paint and tattered trim may show your age
While you may be tired with broken panes, the warmth within you, still remains
And though the years of wind and rain have left you battered and worn
If you like, you can still find a place within, to call home