
The house has a life of its own
when the halls are dark
and the tiles spreads out cold
beyond the murmurs of sleep
a clock ticks
and wind sings her way
around corners and over the roof
tiny feet patter
as reptiles climb for quiet nests
sheltered from raptor eyes
and their nocturnal hunting
the house has a life of its own
sheltering its sleeping family
strength and safety
and the comfort of home – Caroline A. Slee