Blink

This house is full of ghosts, spun webs and wind
Twenty five years ago, as seen on film
It was alive, with sun and light and joy
Tall grass, green eyes (strobe light without a noise)
The walls are stripped bare, the ceiling destroyed
What's left? Just the dream, in a corridor.
Night light, square tiles, all three doors are closed
Down stairs, turn right, on a carpeted floor
His ashes condemned without a fire
Raindrops on broken glass and rusted nails
The sun is bluer these days, it's colder
The smell of wood, smoke, my face has grown pale
Blink once, warm light, bedside, I fall asleep
Blink twice, blue light, nightlife, dead on my feet.