The rooms are dark from dusk to dawn,

the windows weep for those now gone,

there is no laughter or voices heard

in that empty" crypt"- no loving word

to soothe the hearts that mourn

lost years and time's bitter toll

that burns a soul- that burns a soul.

.

Some night I'll take my pillow

and leave the" walkers and canes"

to sleep in the arms of its shelter

with a pearl moon smiling down

through the big bay window panes.

06/17/2006