The picture on the parlor wall
In my grandparents' parlor, shadows fall,
Where a princely figure picture hangs upon the wall.
His mustache high, with sword and gun in place,
Yet now, a puzzled look clouds his face.
The tall clock ticks, though faint its steady chime,
As if it's lost its grip on passing time.
The deer head stares, the tiger skin lies still,
Both relics of a past with frozen will.
Dust gathers thick on vanity’s grand show,
The once proud room now waits for time to go.
This house may fall, its charm erased with ease,
A place where ego reigned, now lost to breeze.
The prince looks on, confused by days long gone,
As all his grandeur fades at break of dawn.
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