A fire place burnt out,
A ceiling with holes,
Some toys thrown about.
The house of logs has started to mold,
The floor boards fall apart,
The sheets are torn.
A mantle with broken picture frames,
A desert outside that never rains,
A frame fromed from the window pane.
Scattered clothes left on the floor,
Brown pants and red dresses worn no more,
Once would have been worn in the days before
This day here.
This day now - the present.
There is nothing left anymore.
What happened here?
There are no bodies, no graves
Where are the people
That once called this home?
Where are they?
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