Here in the darkness of a single lamp lite,
I agonize of a love once contrived of mortal delight.
You have long since departed, yet cling to my memory;
the sweet tune that is playing, assaults my mind,
plaguing time, as if the waltz itself, was diseased.
The sweet, repeating vocals of an ethereal melody,
Flutters its wings in sweeping harmonies.
Violins gently arch in concert with piano keys;
I am weeping, as I listen to the heavenly beauty
of this strange refrain of a forgotten symphony.
The portraits that hang in gilded frames,
witness this duplicating history;
And, the roses that stood in porcelain vases
have long since perished and decayed.
The tune is familiar, persistent;
as it echoes through the papered corridors;
seducing the shadows from candles,
that are cast upon the floor.
The music continues as an eternal vigil,
for, I am locked in this room, without a key.
I replicate this melancholy tribute,
as delirium seizes the echoes of insanity;
For you, there is no substitute.
©Denise Goodwin, All Rights Reserved