The Lone Sentinel

The house stands like a lone sentinel;

Alone it stands in the middle of the field-

Separated from the outside world

As if by an invisible shield.

The faint light that seeps out of its windows,

Having somehow slipped past the heavy curtains,

Is gobbled up by the swirling mist that encircles it

And blurred into near insignificance.

Through a tatter in the clouds above,

The moon glumly looks down;

And sees the barren landscape

Reluctantly shed its dark gown.

Breaking the unearthly stillness,

A melancholy draught whispers by;

It makes the gnarled trees dotting the desolation

Shiver and sigh.

Yet, the house stands unmoved.