A black house by the shore,

Silent wood, a hundred years or more.

Moonlight paints the waves with grace,

Shadows drift, a quiet place.

By day the wide veranda sings,

Wind and sky, and seagull wings.

By night the silence folds so deep,

Darkness enters, whispers sleep.

Oh black house, gentle, strong,

Keeper of stories, of right and wrong.

Though time may fade, your spirit stays,

A quiet hymn through endless days.

Trees surround with fragrant air,

Frangipani blossoms everywhere.

Steps descend to earth below,

Through the dark the heart will go.

Fear and beauty walk as one,

Shadow hides, yet comes the sun.

Morning gold breaks through the sky,

Darkness lifts, the light replies.

The black house stands, serene, apart,

A fleeting dream, yet close to heart.