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Writer's pictureEvelyn Creon

My old Home

Emptiness consumed the room,

One that used to be filled with joy.

Old paper on the walls have gently started to fall,

Giving off a tattered look.

Cobwebs hang in the corners.

Corners that used to always be dimly lit.

Broken glass covers the floor below

Where the chandelier once hung.

Widow pains let in a cool breeze

Through broken bits and pieces.

A dust blanket covers the floor

Hiding old shoe skid marks.

The room in which I lived

As a young little girl.

Has been empty for many many years.

Leaving only spiders and mice

To enjoy the long lost fun.

The house in which the room sits

Looks like a ramshackle.

Though once upon a time it had been a home.

One full of joy and laughter

That lasted through the night.

One with memories

Hidden deep within the walls.

One that taught us to love,

And to live life to the full.

The old ramshackle house

Used to be the place I called home.


written by Evelyn Creon

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