The Landing

An old house abandoned lay back from the curb now long forgotten, its story unheard I rose up the stairs feeling heavy of foot When I arrived at the landing, around I did look Three doors surrounded, all painted red one left, one right, and one straight ahead I now yearned to see what was behind Might they bear wisdom to passage of time The door I first opened was on my right side The bolt slid smoothly the hinges did glide Adorned in fine silk and threads of high count this room was of splendor and that which amounts A bed of four posts with a misty cloth veil The lingering scent of sweet perfume did trail A rug Wove in Persia covered the floor I gasped at its beauty, and then closed the door Now on the landing I pondered the next, after the last, I now stood vexed The door in the center was rugged and worn As I then turned the knob, from my hand it was torn The door flew open and a cold wind rushed just for a moment, then all was hushed Light from a broken sash lit the room and told a sad story of an ending too soon There on the floor with the sill just above lying on shards, a white fallen Dove Bloodied of breast and listlessly still a symbol of love, but no longer of will A deception of sight in flight brought her last I took in the scene, recounting steps past Now on the landing I pondered the next The door now remaining was that on my left From inside the room came a curious sound As the door swung open, I stood in astound Small dampened foot prints littered the floor, and new ones appeared atop oaken boards A young girl was singing a rhyme from gone bye Her I could hear, but not see with my eyes she seemed very happy and full of young life At her age what did happen, what was her strife? Why does she stay here yet to pass on, and be with her family now that they've gone? I felt a calm aura and warm gentle glow, as back to the doorway I slowly did go Now on the landing I pondered the rooms They left me in wonder, and still they now do...