Sinister Season of Rust

In the dim, dank night, looming high on the hill By a slow, somber river, deep and still Black scribbled tree branches, beckon the stars with bent, riddled, knuckles, arthritic and scarred… Here hides a mansion, imposing and stark Groaning with secrets, alone in the dark Cedar and sandalwood, once graced stately doors All that is left, is regret, to the core Nothing to bury, but an old desperate story Filled deep with whispers and curdles of weeping,…. Fury and secrets and tears for the keeping One top gabled window, a brief flash of face Bleached by the moon, …then, oddly erased Barred are the doors, but hidden inside She wanders the rooms, still dressed as a bride She walks through the garden, in a lost, foggy, haze Dark clouds, above her, wherever she goes Heavy with intention, they hover and choke Mist from the swamp land encircles like smoke… She grips tarnished urn, filled with ash, some kind They spill in the wind, to seek, or to find A place to join the earth, a place to find a rest They seek final rest in the place they know best Where the season of love, has withered to dust No place here to linger, beware if you must… __________________________________ For Contest sponsored by Jerry T. Curtis "Creep Me Out"