The House on the Hill

The House on the Hill

the car pulls up the hill
stopping at the side of the house
the place were i spent my days until
i was old enough to move on

the lawn was strewn with trees and
gardens with cold iron furniture
outbuildings once meant for hired hand
quiet except for mice

the place the sitter lived at
was old, but richer if not warmer
for it. The rambling house was a place that
was layered like a maze

windows would let sunlight
stream in like patchwork
of spots blotting out the sight
like my memory of that place