Dream Houses to Ponder . . . Over Yonder . . .

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One or two of you, perhaps three or four
Said you had enjoyed the dream house in the post before
That you had admired the broken down door
The failing shutters crumbling stones peeling paint galore
So I thought if this is what you like
Then perhaps you should have some more
That you may know this is no passing fling
This love for houses in various states of abandoning
This is not puppy love this is a serious thing
The flame burns deep in my heart smolders in my bones
I think of them late at night while sitting up alone
These houses in every degree of disrepair
Once full of warmth now feel only despair
As water and wind and frost colder than they can bear
Perform the slow work of demolition without care
Stone by stone, frame by frame
Once you fall in love with such a place
Then who is to blame
That you will never, ever again be the same
So I dream that one day I will find one for sale
Where I can live out my days
Quietly sitting down to finish this tale
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(Maison à Vendre = House for Sale)
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Maybe it will have shutters like these
All boarded up against the cold breeze
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The back yard may be a bottlefield where piles of glass have grown
Perhaps I'll manage to add a few of my own
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Some people call an empty bottle a dead soldier
If such was the case then this was a massacre
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Nevertheless I would put out pots of flowers in a crumbling alcove
To proclaim loud and clear a message of love
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I think such places must be inhabited by men
Who go out each day to feed birds again and again
For what else is left in life when one is sixty plus ten ?
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Lace curtains allow the light to come in
But hide the room within from passing glances
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Yes, I'd like to come home to an auld place like this
Throw open the shutters, give the missus a kiss
Sit by the window for a while with a drink and reminisce
About all the dream houses there are in the world to miss
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