In a quiet lane in Ireland stands a house that was once a home
and a garden that was once loved and played in
a window with a view someone looked out upon everyday
with water pots at the back door for household animals
and brambles that were unclipped and left to run wild
a house that was filled with laughter and music
touches of love exist where you see the colour of painted blue
applied by a careful hand long ago
through a window curtains still sway in the breeze
forgotten ornaments remain on the mantelpiece
dishes drying on the sink waiting to be put away...
Every house has a story all of its own...
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