Once, it was beautiful.
The silver walls would scintillate with
A glittering sun,
Illuminating all that surrounds.
But now it is sallow,
Smothered by the vines that stole its breath.
The climbers entwine the windows,
You cannot see.
Could you burn yourself to the ground?
A grave of embers littering
A cloud of smoke poisons its inhabitants
As the deadly sun rains down.
It has destroyed itself.
The house is no more.
Photography by Matthew Powell