Source:randomthoughtsforabeautifulgirl
Play me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Around in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end.
Like a tear that won’t fall.
A sad song with no end
that echoes for eternity.
ONE SONG
Sing me a love song.
Rhyme me a sad tale.
The woe of heartbroken lovers
whose tinny cries take to the air.
The needle rides the grooves.
Round in a circle, it goes.
No beginning or end.
Like a tear that refuses to fall.
A song without an end.
The melody echoes through eternity.
One jump and scratch at a time.
THE STAIRCASE
I close my eyes to sleep,
and what do I see?
The stairs from my
elementary school.
I hear children’s voices
as they dash to their classes.
I hear their shouts
as they run to the basement for lunch.
I can’t see their faces
but only hear their voices.
All I can see is the empty staircase,
the lone echo of my childhood.
The Valley Cemetery | GarettPhotography
A walk in the cemetery.
Not the right place to be merry.
Dark shadows creep in
As dark as their sin.
Wings flap around me.
I’m cold as can be.
A brief tap on my shoulder.
I run to the boulder.
“No one is here,”
I say in fear.
But footsteps, I do hear
Echo as they draw near.
“Oh no, they have found me.”
A fresh grave waits for me.
“Open the door and
Step inside.
The darkness beckons to you.
Welcome!”
The wind sighs its plaintive plea.
Cold air swooshes past my face.
“Do you hear the music?
A party is waiting for you in the drawing room.
Don’t be afraid.
Peek in.
Can you see the dancers?
Twirling around and around.
You can see through them?
Can’t you?
That’s because they’re transparent,
An echo from the distant past.
Those who lived here before
Who now inhabit this old house.”
A gowned figure of a woman turns to me.
The flesh slowly shrivels from her body,
Leaving behind a skeleton of bones.
She cackles, “You can now join us.”
Her hand reaches for me.
I turn to flee.
The windows and doors snap shut.
I jiggle the door handle.
Locked.
Trapped in the deep recesses
of my mind.
No escape.
THE STAIRCASE
I close my eyes to sleep,
and what do I see?
The staircase from my past.
The stairs from my
elementary school.
I can hear voices
as the children run up the stairs.
to their classes.
I can hear their shouts
as they run down
to the basement for lunch.
I can’t see their faces.
I only hear their voices.
All I can see is the empty staircase.
The lone echo of my childhood.
I close my eyes to sleep,
and what do I see?
The staircase from my past.
The stairs from my
elementary school.
I can hear children’s voices
as they run up the stairs to classes.
I can hear their shouts
as they run down to the basement for lunch.
But I can’t see their faces.
I can only hear their voices.
All I can see is the empty staircase.
A lone echo of my childhood.
A large chandelier hangs in the middle
of the empty ballroom.
This room has stood empty
for some time now.
How many parties have taken place
beneath the chandelier’s sparkling lights?
How many dances have been held on the
ballroom’s shiny floor?
Could you hear the laughter and footsteps
of the past?
They still echo through the empty rooms of the house.
Will End House ever host any parties again?
Or will its rooms stand empty forever?
The Dead Game by Susanne Leist
SUSANNE LEIST 