Creaky floors and dusty shelves,

rooms filled with musty smells.

Fine lace and linen

are keeping hidden

what once was more.

Something waits behind closed gates.

What was bursting with brilliant lights

is now nothing but a shell.

A frightful curse,

something straight from hell.

Love once alive

cannot survive

in a heart so dead,

a lonely ghost grieves instead.

A home now gone,

waisting away and waiting for the day

laughter once again rings through the halls.

Torn lace and linen,

a ruined life and a soul on display.

The house moans and cries,

with the story of a man

who could no longer love his bride.

A demon haunts it still,

a curse never broken

and a revelation

wished to have gone unspoken.