In the hushed, dusky pink gloaming
on a stout, vintage table
six dainty teacups sat waiting prettily
to be kissed and sipped from!
But no clattering footsteps ascended the stairs
no laughter, no banter, no swinging doors
the house was deserted
and so was the pergola bereft in the garden.
Waiting endlessly into the inky night
they strained to hear voices,
but silence was the sole occupant
within the lustreless, withered walls.
An old faded letter lay on the console
written in beautiful cursive, now faint and pale
a sudden breeze caressed those words
fluttering the letter, thus bringing them alive!
The teacups rattled and the curtains danced
and like magic a frisson ran over the home
and it forgot its loneliness, momentarily.