Rusty nails pin these twisted roots

of the house, which so adorned, is now decrepit.

Flies decorate the windowsill

Constellations of shattered glass

The ember cracks, a small, resilient base reduced to ash.

My home scraped not with frailty,

an eagle thus produced.

Perched among a blossom grove,

the elm tree housed his roost.

Overlooked a golden sea,

waves crack against the shore

planted on a hanging cliff,

my house designed by Moore.

In this illusion it then manifested,

the parasite intrudes

My burning flame of grandeur,

now cracking ember new.