Ancient window, weathered and old
Speaking of mystery and stories untold
I wish you could speak of the days of yore
And tell us what happened here before
Who called it home? Were they happy here?
Did they live in peace, and free from fear?
What activities filled their days?
Did they labor long, or have lazy ways?
You hold their secrets, I think with a sigh,
But their spirits nod as I pass by.