it is retold that in this house <br />live the ghosts <br /> <br />whose bodies of women and <br />children <br />of a religious family <br />were huddled <br />sometime in the <br />1800 mercilessly killed <br />by cruel monsters <br />inside the basement <br /> <br />the white bearded man <br />who sits on one of those antique <br />chairs <br />says that cries can still be heard <br />from those <br />12 empty rooms <br /> <br />the place is <br />a historic landmark now <br />where this old house stands still <br />unwavering to the <br />passage of time <br />unlike those which were <br />buried a long time ago <br />by limbo <br />and cannot be remembered <br /> <br />you cannot feel dust here <br />as one looks at the world from this window <br />one can feel <br />eternity at the fingertip <br /> <br />the words pass by <br />as i stand still trying to listen to the faint <br />cry of the <br />wind from the sugar fields<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/negrense-house-silay/
