Beneath the ancient oak it stands,
This house of memories and dreams,
Its walls whispering tales of time,
In moonlit nights, a soft gleam.

The floors creak with stories untold,
Shadows dance in quiet grace,
A gentle breeze through open windows,
Caresses each forgotten space.

In every corner, there’s a past,
Echoes of laughter, love, and tears,
The house holds secrets, long amassed,
Embracing both the joys and fears.

As dawn breaks, it stands serene,
A testament to days gone by,
The old house, a timeless scene,
Under the vast and endless sky.