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