The Mansion

I sit in the open black within the walls of my mansion,
A sigh sends a faint echo floating and blowing in the drafts,
Rising up into the damp hallways and into the attic where it evaporates among the slates,
Tilting my head backwards and touching it down onto the wrinkled leather of the great grand armchair
I yawn,
And afraid that i'll steal all the oxygen, the house yawns back,
the doors of it's creaking mouth slowly creak open and closed again,
It winks at me from a cracked sky light where the moonlight flickers in through whisping clouds
passing on their way to valleys,foothills and summits,
Cold conversing chimneys housing an even deeper darkness ignore me as they whistle out and whisper low to each other across empty rooms and
over floorboards where fields of dust rest,
Gusts and gales whip through the age old ash lying in the fireplace,
Tornadoes rise up and fall back down,
disturbing tired settled particles that have migrated from the vast bogs outside,
Chilling brittle windows rattle their glassy teeth
And remembering their roots,
their splitting frames shiver and shudder.