Floorboards creak, bearing the weight of stately figures,

Children scamper through hallowed halls, off on grand adventures.

Stained glass windows cast coloured shadows, bright pools of light,

Plates laden with food crowd the tables, a welcome sight.

Not a speck out of place, not even a cushion tassel out of alignment,

There are worse places for me to spend my confinement.

I have seen many come and go,

And many of those do not know,

That if blow came to blow,

Just how hard I'd fight, although,

I try to show,

I'll never let this place go.

This house is mine. It belongs to me.

You are welcome to stay. But not for long.

This house is mine.

Not yours.