The Sunlit House

White, through the gate it gleamed and slept

In shattered sunshine. The parched garden flowers

Their scarlet petals from the beds unswept

Like children unloved and ill-kept

Dreamed through the hours Two blue hydrangeas by the blistered door burned brown

Watched there, and no one in the town

Cared to go past it night or day

Though why this was they wouldn't say

But I, the stranger, knew that I must stay.

Pace up the weed-grown paths and down -

Till one afternoon - there is just a doubt -

Bit I fancy I heard a tiny shout -

From an upper window a bird flew out -

And I went my way.