|picture credit: http://vikingexposure.deviantart.com/art/Door-of-the-Rusted-Dreams-3085458|
A brownstone, abandoned, captures my eye
as the dying rays of the sinking sun
play through ancient and tall oak trees.
A chill in the air now takes my hand
and leads me to the faded green door,
while the leaves are whispering in my ear,
“Open the door... there’s no-one home…”
The musty smell of wandering ghosts meet me on the other side,
those who leave no footprints, yet still brush my arms
in welcome to their old and graceful home.
Wooden floors creak, an echo of movement from years gone by,
whilst spider webs sway from the ceiling like old memories...
A myriad of smudges on the dusty windowpanes
decorate the peeling walls with charming and playful sketches
that are not quite the way you see them now, never the way you thought,
and they cast doubt and fear in the ever deepening night...