By: Rivka Goldenberg

How old the mansion,
Creepy and gray,
Spooky and dark
Dimmer each day.

Nobody wonders,
Nobody cares,
Of the secrets all kept there
For so many years.

Nobody thought
Of a memory torn apart,
Taking along
Somebody’s heart.

Nobody glanced
At the message on the door,
Nobody thought
Of the footprints on the floor.

A desk, a paper
A diary – unlocking
Somebody’s soul,
But no one was knocking.

A mystery – taking
Along with it years,
The hourglass, spilling
Not sand – but tears.

Buried in time,
An age from the past,
Invisible identity
Disappearing fast.

Hold – grasp on
To destiny ahead,
For the thread of life is precious
And it is just a thread.