Poem Number Thirtysix.

          House Of Dreams

I stopped in front of the house again,

I fell it’s chill go up my spine again,

The house has demons all of it’s own,

Ghosts of the past, rattle the bone,

I lived there once, but never a memory comes,

Fleeting visions that disappear like dream drums,

Were they good times or bad,

I’ll never know, it makes me very sad,

Sadness if forever in my heart,

I know my family loves me, thou my dad is very tart,

They never understood my dreams are hunted,

As my eyes become like a demon hunted.

                                        -Marie Dynes

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