A house I’d like to grow old in

I stopped by that house I’d like to grow old in.
It was old, and a little broken, with an uncompromising sea view—
perfect.
That day, she had her doors wide open,
with white cotton curtains dreaming in the salty sea-blowing.
All the windows were open,
and, no one seemed to be home (although they were probably just in the back at that precise moment).

The house was calling me in.

But, I knew that I couldn’t do it.
Although this dream-house was real, just six steps away from me,
I felt the river of time flowing in between
I was here,
she was across.

There’s no way but through.

So, I told her I’ll walk in,
but, I’ll be drenched and soaking.
Wait for me.