A house stands upon a shady hill

I can hear her muted laughter still

It follows as I walk from room to room

As though she's trapped inside this Tudor tomb

She lived a life more difficult than most

In death, it seems, she's still not found repose

Caught between the heavens and the earth

She's never truly felt a sense of mirth

Desperately, she prays the darkness comes

And renders all this tortured searching done

Time no longer binds her to this place

Can no longer age her youthful face

That sense of peace always will elude her

Trapped forever inside this spacious Tudor