This old house

Like an old painting,
discoloured,
disfigured,
taken off the wall
for no fault of its,
except for 'being',
the greatest
of all punishable faults,
the old house
is being taken down at last.
Being taken down though
is not new to this house,
a house
that has stood taken
by hail and snow,
by time and trials,
by rust and rain alike,
all along while it 'was'.

This old house
that has for long
hidden inside it
broken vases,
old shoestrings,
discarded vessels
and useless furniture!
Faultless decay: the fate of the abiding.