Allure of the Abandoned Place

See that structure on which green creepers climb?
It could have been rather grand at one time.
Almost missed it-hidden back in the trees
I love this about old places like these.

Abandoned; near lost from sheer neglect,
It beckons to me to come and inspect;
To see that even with boards hanging loose,
It’s more striking now than back when in use.

Don’t ask me why I cannot look away.
Or why I think it would be fun to stay.
As answers to these, I cannot provide,
Knowing the risk of a venture inside.

I find it rather compelling, you see.
This old place quietly calls out to me.
Vines grown across an empty, black window
Cause me to wonder how long it’s been so.

It brings to mind childhood fictions I’ve read,
Hans Christian Andersen yarns fill my head.
Pictures recalled from these lost fairy tales,
Of witches, gardens, and shadowy trails.

A place like this may have stories to tell,
Built with some purpose it may have served well,
Then, one day deserted- no one returned.
Never restored- there was no one concerned.

Not torn down; it was simply vacated.
Yet, while it’s now deteriorated,
To this home where past and present collides,
Some haunting mystique its neglect provides.

 
Perhaps someone left a trinket behind
A treasure for someone later to find.
Perhaps some forgotten passage in there
Takes you down to a secret room somewhere.

Bones might be found in a darkened corner
Key to a cold case for some old mourner.
Maybe old furniture is still arranged
Layers of dust, but otherwise unchanged.

Could be a cradle in an upstairs room;
A vial of rare and exotic perfume;
A letter with bombshell news on a desk;
(Or something unspeakable and grotesque).

Could be signs inside of habitants there-
Clothing or familiar scent in the air.
I’d get quite the scare if that was the case,
And turn to run for the door with great haste!

For now, I’ll just snap a photo or two
And try to imagine this house brand new.
For fantasy fodder, I’ll dream up ghosts
And wonder if anyone else it hosts.

Some call it “eerie”; I say “bewitching.”
To take a tour inside I am itching
But to enter would spoil its mystery,
Though not likely give up its history.

If I leave right now, its charm stays intact.
Fun fancies are spoiled by looked-upon fact.
Daydreaming transforms the commonplace.
That’s the allure of the abandoned place.