6The Mansion in the Woods
The bitter light of morning filters through unclean drapes
Casting sunlit dust upon the already blanketed floor
One shoe disturbs the silence, tracing runes in the filth
Two eyes search the soul of the empty room
Seeing forgotten figures of happiness, contentment,
Notches in the doorway where this happiness grew up
Hushed rustles caress a pair of ears
Straining to hear what was never said
They hear all too well the aching quiet
Imposing furniture, once softened with the bodies of others
Hold open their worn arms for just one more embrace
A single touch sparks a light, refilling the room
An ancient beauty sprawls across acres, a woman sprawled
Attractively across a bed, beckoning with a wooden finger
"We'll take it," they say, "This house is perfect for us."