The House by the City Auditorium

by Douglas Polk

stain glass windows,
in the front door,
ornate and beautiful,
the scroll work on the gables,
but the floorboards of the porch,
rotted and broken,
vacant and abandoned,
the house stands alone,
the old lady finally died,
when I still a boy,
the house,
once a home,
now a place,
for ghost stories,
and teenage boys,
smoking and drinking,
wonder if the old lady knows,
in her grave so cold,
her heart aching,
the wind weeping in the dark night,
outside my bedroom window.