A Keeper of the Past

An old creaky home by the port,

A time capsule of memories caught,

Its wooden walls a tapestry,

Of past lives and secrets in history.

The salty breeze embraces with grace,

As if the home has found its rightful place,

To stand the test of time and tide,

And keep the secrets it must hide.

Its creaky floorboards speak of days,

When sailors came and went their ways,

And whispers of the tales they told,

Echoes are woven into every fold.

The home is a keeper of the past,

A treasure trove that's meant to last,

And though it may be old and worn,

Its stories live on and on.

And as the sun sets in the west,

The old home creaks and groans once more,

A whispered tale, a final request,

To keep its secrets evermore.