There's a house at the top of the hill. 
Haunted, of course.
It doesn't want to kill, or even chill. 
Benevolent, of course. 
It used to be a mill. 
Abandoned, of course. 
They made twill. 
Aeons ago, of course. 

Now the house sits lonely and old. 
Awaiting its new masters. 
It's earned a reputation, ill-begotten. 
The house, alive, just wants company. 
It remembers, you see, it's former glory. 
Will it ever be loved again?