There's a house on Windy Corner
at the top of Breezy Hill
standing cold, alone and empty
in the grasp of Winter's chill.

Once the rafters rang with laughter,
fun and music filled the air.
Sunshine poured through every window.
Love lived in profusion there.

Now it houses only phantoms;
Ghostly voices whisper low.
Time, the ultimate assassin
plied his blade long years ago

As I brush aside the cobwebs
in each dusty room it seems,
once again I hold my memories.
Broken echoes of my dreams.

By Thomas Vaughan Jones (



Watch these pages for other poems by Tom.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.

Night Fishing

Footsteps On My Roof

Fond Memories

Burnt Out Match

Seasons Change

Winter Friends




The Purple Dark Of Night

The Mad March Hare

Empty Basket

A new feature at Lara's Den is free E-cards. I make them and offer them to our visitors and authors. Click the button to access the index.

And.......for many others, click the index image.

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