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…
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For Contest sponsored by Jerry T. Curtis "Creep Me Out"
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