The Last Guest
Enshrouding years came thronging all as one,
Oppressing him, reminding him of Time
Lichening his castle walls, all blackening with grime
Where never shone the golden glimmer of the dawning sun;
The Count had lived for centuries with none.
Magenta dusk was gathering once more,
As evening came shadowing the hall,
He, the red-lipped Count, a-striding restlessly, so tall
And stately on the granite floor.
Then inward…swung…the outer door.
Ethereal lady…a visitor at last,
Assuaging decades of despaired retreat.
Thus he takes her arm and guides her to a chair
Till suddenly the crimson Count falls back dismayed, aghast—
She smiles. “Don’t ask my name. Your time is past.
Decrepit vampires cannot everlast…”
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
