Stories Beneath

I step on the floor, creaking under my weight,

each groan tells a story of secrets and fate.

These old boards remember the laughter and tears,

a history layered through all of the years.

While moving the furniture, I pause for a breath,

feel echoes of whispers that danced 'round in death.

A loose board shifts softly, like thoughts left unsaid,

as I walk through the memories, where angels once tread.