Bleak House

Cold that grips to bind,
bending floorboards warped my foot hereunder.
I watched the ivy wind pulling slowly them asunder.

Throughout dust motes hang,
stifling tinsel threading the banisters through.
I watched with a pang those wasting lonely two.

Darkling brown the paper peels,
rolling downward slowly casting a darkened shadow.
I watched over meals their faces turning sallow.

The house stands empty,
a greying ashen hue. Left in a corner leaning,
a disused snooker cue.

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