Unexplained Phenomena, One

The tiny house just there above the square
Is loved at once by all who go to see it,
But on its lawn a for sale sign’s still there
And those inside just wait in hope to flee it.
The high view of the bay’s the best in town;
Its lawns embrace its frame in emerald green;
Its floors are stained a lovely nutty brown:
It’s got to be the cutest house you’ve seen.
What’s wrong with this small gem that can’t be sold?
It’s not defamed by some quite grizzly crime,
And no tectonic faults hide in its hold –
Its plumbing, heating, wiring are sublime.
It’s priced just right and no one can deny it;
Sweet, perfect, yes, yet no one wants to buy it.