I have lived here long. Before it was yours. A time ago it was mine. The leaves still turned yellow each fall. The flowers blossomed even then in spring. But it was my laugh that echoed here. Lazy afternoons were my favorite. Sitting under the weeping willow sketching my dreams I have lived here long.
You are new, you don’t know. The secrets only the house knows. For they are never to be spoken. Never to be believed but left alone. The spirit of this house is bright yellow and fragrant. The secrets are just stories for tea-time lovers. I might tell you a few, ask me someday, just not today.
I have lived here for too long. I don’t desire the world outside. I wander the empty rooms, climb the walls, and lay down on the green grass. And when the night seeps in, the house comes to life. I meet many like myself, who have lived here too long to let go what was once theirs.