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.