The House on the Hill

The House on the Hill

The old house on the hill
was a magical place to a young child
Conjuring visions of grandeur
from a time gone by
Imagining winding staircases
and huge chandeliers
Surely an attic filled with treasures
An old rocking horse, beloved train set
and dusty photographs
How I wished to explore
the expansive home
but it was not meant to be
and remained an enigma

The iron railing fence and huge gate
always locked and foreboding
Mounds of leaves from ancient trees
picked up by chilly winds
Only on rare occasions did we see her,
the old lady who lived there
Glimpses through the window of a face
with grey hair pulled tight in a bun
How we would giggle and make up stories
of her being a witch who would snatch 
up small children and eat them for supper
All so long ago but those memories still fresh
as I picked up the Sold sign and turned the key 


Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Photo by Nathan Walker on Unsplash

Laura is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us as follows 

For this Poetics Prompt I want us to be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house One that has no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon .

• conjure an imaginary house of any size, any place, any age
• fill it with an imaginary person/people past or present, or ghosts,  or leave it empty with its history
• make it literal but move into the metaphorical if you wish