A House Divided

Let us make it look like humans might have lived here at one time.
The retired soldier said to the slabbed house this maker of rhyme.
Wasn't like the place was allowed to talk so it ignored the order.
One centred hanging light-bulb in the ceiling dangled like mortar.

The command given echoed through the domicile alerted perked ears.
All the feet rushed to make restitution for they had learned fear.
Brooms hidden away and mops joined in unison to the cadenced beat.
Blasphemed walls and beer cans strew knew that this meant retreat.

Dirty clothes were picked up and chaos whimpered in agony defeated.
The cob webs and scattered things felt doomed terribly mistreated.
For they had malice toward no one and just victims of awful fate.
Of course, the old shack could care less and looked at as if date.

For it no longer stands there but was memory in one person's mind.
As the old soldier resting in a cemetery with others of his kind.
But the Sergeant lives on even though he departed many years past.
Looming like a distorted shadow from that dangling light-bulb cast.