No-one
In my big old lonely house
I often hear things that aren't really there
For example the rustle of my paper
As no-one sits in my chair
And the squeak of old rusty floorboards
As no-one goes up the stairs
In my big old lonely house
I see things that don't exist
Like the wagging tail of a young Border Collie
As by the boiler no-one sits
Or a piece of fresh green mistletoe
Under which no-one kissed
In my big old lonely house
I smell things, but it's just lies
Maybe the rich heavy fumes of petrol
As up the road no-one drives
And the lovely sweet scent of perfume
As no-one sprays annoying flies
In my big old lonely house
I feel like I'm not really here
And now, here all on my own
I'm turning into no-one I fear
For I am old, and I am dying
And when I scream, no-one hears
poem by Amy Darnbrook
Added by Poetry Lover
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