No hansom cabs stop at the curb,
The bell has lost its peel.
No servant’s heavy-laden steps
Up the staircase steal.
The window blinds – shut fast and tight,
The fireplace gone cold.
The pen lies still upon the page,
Cases left untold.
The ticking clock, which no one hears
Save for a small grey mouse.
The darkness looms, the thick fog falls
Upon the empty house!
by Fran Martin 1991