What Do You See #108

Image credit; Photomix company @ Pixabay

The key hung in the lock,
A talisman of days long past.
Windows at half mast,
Curtains drab and dusty wave.
A welcome unacknowledged,
As the sun dipped its head low.
High-pitched hum escaping,
White noise demanding its due.
A settee gathering dust,
The lone spectator to the show.
Roaches crawl across countertop,
Lone occupants unafraid.
Dried remains encrusting porcelain,
As the back door closes with a bang.
Clothesline spins slow revolutions,
Sun bleached ghosts dance.
A murder of crowds lifts,
From fields of trampled crops.
As the Autumn breeze gusts,
Ants hoarding fetid flesh,
For the darkness to come.

What do you see #108

© NopeNotPam

11 thoughts on “What Do You See #108

  1. 1. What I see in the picture is someone inviting intruders!
    2. Your poem is indeed dark in a sad sort of way. Retrospectives of decaying homes always make me sad.
    3. When you say “murder of crowds,” do you mean crows?

    Liked by 1 person

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