Houses for haunting

Something is living in houses for haunting
No one knows if it is ghosts or it is vampires or it is memories or it is time 
Stopping to dance with the dust for a moment
Something is dying in houses for haunting
It may be hope, or foolishness, or innocence, or boredom, or squirrels, or maybe me
Something is singing in houses for haunting 
And the songs are deep and rich and echo throughout the hallowed hollow hallways
A grand piano creaks along to meandering music and someone is operetting a world away
In between tiles grow saplings and spruce
Up on the rooftop a dove makes a nest of straw and hair and baby teeth and flowers
There is restlessness in the walls and dreams in the attic
And though the Bills and Katherines and Marjories who owned the house have disappeared
Something is living in houses for haunting