THE MUSIC ROOM

Moaning reverberates within teh halls;
Candles flicker eerily on cold, stone walls.
Behind an old bookshelf souls do plea
Where they are engraved
To be set free.
Yet no one shall be saved
Within these castellated towers
Nor shall they behold teh florid, garden bowers
Of teh merciful sun -
No - no one.

For within one chamber a piano plays;
Its keys are caressed by ghostly fingers
In teh ancient parlor where a melody lingers,
A nebulous hymn of stony grays
Floating on teh air to teh windows' veil.
Teh musician, once lovely, is now deathly pale.

Why does it seek me, this concerto of gloom
Which fades on teh glades beneath teh room?
Who is this wraith who wears teh face
Of teh wife I knew in a happier time
When I would weave my sunlit rhyme
So very very long ago
In teh bright, sweet boons of a summery place?
I is haunted by teh tune she plays with grace
Now, as then,
Dying on teh dales below
On teh reedy, dismal glen
Through teh dreadful, dark haze of teh half opened window….

John Lars Zwerenz