MAKE BELIEVE
The staircase crumbles over time,
leaving a film of white-out over it all.
Air whistles through the broken windows,
a high-pitched moaning sound to my ears.
Cobwebs catch hold of my hair,
twirling the strands against my face.
I climb the creaking stairs to the attic,
to see what lies behind the peaked window.
A doll house sized door waits at the top,
its tiny knob small for my fingers.
I stoop to enter the round room,
lit by beams of light from the beveled window.
A collection of dolls sleep in the morning sun,
lined up like soldiers around the room.
Porcelain skin shining white,
so lifelike in their slumbering pose.
I reach to touch the Elizabethan girl,
dressed in a gown of burgundy and lace.
Skin so soft and warm,
for a doll created for make believe.
The room feels even smaller,
eyes following my every move.
A movement from the far corner
catches my roving eye.
Pinocchio stands up to face me,
an evil grin across his wooden face.
He says in a high shrill voice
as he lumbers on wooden legs to me,
“Hello, Nice to meet you.
Time to play our nightly game.”
Arms and legs come at me,
a cacophony of sounds hit my ears.
I go down beneath the dolls,
now one of their creations of make believe.
Hidden fears.
Hidden desires.
They ring loud and true.
Deep within the gates,
Within the walls of the old house,
Lies remnants of the past.
Haunting thoughts.
Haunting feelings.
Trapped inside.
Don’t let them out.
The creepy old house holds dark shadows
within its crumbling walls.
Dusty furniture sits waiting for new owners.
Old draperies cover the drafty windows,
desperate to keep the bitter cold out.
Who will want this house?
A house full of old memories and old ghosts.
Let’s go in and check it out.
Maybe these people had good memories
and fun times.
SUSANNE LEIST 