There is a House...

An age when nothing is safe or sacred.

There is a house
on the hill.
The hill lay through the shrub and
beyond the curtain of pine, ever green.
A house
small, decadent with time,
coiled with nature.
A home
to those who have no use
for the world outside its pine
curtain
border, the shrubbery.
They lay in waiting
a silence of youth and age and
wisdom for those who never
come. Those
who would remove the curtain,
dismantle the house
level the hill. Those who have
not come...yet.