The House Beneath The Scarlet Moon

The House Beneath The Scarlet Moon

The house stood silent in the mist.
Its windows watched the fading light.
The scarlet moon climbed overhead.
Awakening another night.

The poppies swayed without a breeze.
Like whispered voices from the past.
Each crimson petal held a tale.
Of memories that could not last.

A shadow crossed the garden gate.
Then vanished where the darkness grew.
The silence settled once again.
As if the night already knew.

The black horse raised its watchful head.
Its eyes reflected crimson skies.
It seemed to guard forgotten truths.
Beyond the reach of human eyes.

The old crow circled through the air.
Then settled high upon the roof.
Its lonely call broke through the dark.
Like solemn words of hidden proof.

Behind one curtain burned a light.
Though no one lived there anymore.
A gentle knock echoed once.
Against the weather-beaten door.

Some say the house remembers all.
The love, the sorrow and the tears.
Its walls have gathered every breath.
From long forgotten passing years.

If ever you should wander there.
When scarlet moons begin to rise.
Walk gently past that haunted place.
And trust the wisdom in your eyes.