The Parlor

The Parlor by Sharon Knight
Spectral traces from long ago
whispering in every room
the sounds of children laughing
amidst the tainted ruins


A scratchy phonograph playing
“I’ll be seeing you in all the familiar places”
The tinkling clink of raised glasses
Celebrations with joy and praise


But today the parlor, decayed and silent
save the lonely cry of woodworms gnawing
their way through the weathered floor
There once was a time it was lovely and grand

…Alas, nevermore.

©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg

20 Comments on “The Parlor

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