A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.
Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.
Patti Masterman
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-house-breathes-through-its-bones/
