Welcome Trespassers Poem by Mark Heathcote

A house with gnarled faces squints
at the snowy, barren land
It gazes at someone's footprints passing.
It asks why, he walks on ever so -slowly.
I have no wish for him to stay or go.
But he lingers like some lame animal dragging its feet.
It's as though he were a beast of burden.
leaving its ancient lair
The house is an empty relic now.
It has memories like puffs of grey billowing smoke.
It secretly welcomes trespassers.
It shivers covertly to see him go.
Overgrown—weary brambles—lasso his ankles.
With a shake of his left boot, he trips
He nearly falls.
Two sash windows glint happily once more.
Then a forlorn - raven is heard cawing.
Don't come back here anymore.