Windows

The stately old house watches over the quiet street, it’s attic windows like eyes gazing down upon the neighborhood.

Some who had lived here are long gone. A few stayed for a long time . They became a part of her, their echoes always remembered.

Just now, they have all gone again. She waits. It has been so before.

People just don’t last as long as houses.

She stands watch as always, beautiful and silent, all of her memories and secrets gathered to herself.

Tomorrow, there is an open house. It begins again.