The House Silent

In a house full of shadows, she wanders the halls, Where the echoes of laughter once painted the walls. Her footsteps are whispers, her voice barely heard, A song of longing, without a single word. The sun through the window, it barely does shine, On a life that feels distant, no longer divine. The clock on the mantle ticks on, without care, As she sits in the quiet, her heart in despair. Once she was vibrant, a flame burning bright, Now she’s a ghost, fading out of sight. Her dreams, like old curtains, have gathered the dust, In a house where the silence has long earned her trust.