On Forgotten Street | work in progress

From behind the shrubs, dense as the unease
that led me here,
a house peeks at me —
beautiful with the charm of time‑worn buildings.

Its grey plaster falls away here and there
like the petals of the many hollyhocks and dahlias
that long ago stepped out of line.

Wooden windows, once whitewashed, now peeled,
look out without the blink of curtains.

I wonder if anyone lives here.
Surely someone must —
an amber‑coloured cat meows softly,
sitting by the gate
tightly wrapped in common ivy.

But is anyone alive?
I ask aloud,
yet the cat has vanished somewhere,
leaving only a smile behind.

I feel that from this house
someone once carried goodness out into the world.