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At Freddy's House
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My Falling House
I raise my hands
and stretch the dry skin of old age
all the lines draw an ending
without time for amendments
time went by
my old house became smaller
all my doors seem too narrow
as my shadow grows taller
the stairs inside my falling house
pile the dust of old days
I laze beneath the rusty hatch
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where I once locked the sunshine
I am home
I could lay here where the walls tell my story
I rest my head down on the cold floor
I can wait here for a while, before morning
the light inside my falling house
warms the dust of old days
from the roof the open hatch
cuts half my ageing shadow.
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