A sour betrayal in a time long past, in deep shadows,
Where secrets lay, and sorrows slept,
There stood a mansion of ancient stone,
A place where bitter winds had blown.
The walls were cold, the air was hazy,
With memories that made hearts sick,
Of love once bright, now turned to ash,
In the wake of sour betrayal’s lash.
Sighs and cries had filled the air,
Promises made with tender care,
But trust was broken, hearts were torn,
Leaving behind souls forlorn.
In every chamber and hallway, silence screamed,
Of broken dreams and hopes redeemed,
By pain that lingered, never fled,
A sour betrayal, darkly fed.
The garden where roses bloomed,
Now lay in shadows, deeply gloomed,
Each petal withered, touched by grief,
A reminder of love, all too brief.
Mysterious portraits with downcast eyes,
Stared blankly at the clouded skies,
Their painted smiles, now masks of woe,
Reflected tales of long ago.
The once warm hearth, now cold and dead,
Held ashes of words long shredded,
Of love so fleeting, never sincere,
Now dead leaves in the night’s cold dew.
A sour betrayal echoed down the halls,
A ghostly reminder of love’s fall,
Each instant a memory of the day,
When trust and hope were stripped away.
In the attic’s dusty gloom,
Where sunlight never pierced the room,
A letter lay with words of pain,
A final note of love’s disdain.
By candlelight, it had been penned,
A lover’s promise met its end,
The ink, now faded, still revealed,
The sour betrayal, unconcealed.
The clock’s slow ticks marked time’s cruel hand,
A steady beat, a sorrowed strand,
Of moments lost, of nights in tears,
Of dreams destroyed by silent fears.
The house stood in ghostly light,
A monument to love’s lost fight,
In shadows deep, where sorrow crept,
The tale of sour betrayal slept.
Echoes of giggles rang,
In haunted halls where shadows hung,
Of days when love was pure and bright,
Now cloaked in the eternal night.
The mirror in the hallway’s gloom,
Reflected nought but endless doom,
A visage marred by time’s cruel jest,
A once whole heart was now dispossessed.
Curtains drawn, the windows wept,
For promises that were not kept,
The rain against the glass pane sighed,
A sorrowful song of love that died.
In the corner, an old chair stood,
A silent witness understood,
The weight of memories, sorrow-spun,
Of days when two had loved as one.
The cellar door, once tightly sealed,
Now opened to a past revealed,
Of whispered lies and secret trysts,
Of love’s betrayal in the mists.
The wind outside began to wail,
A mournful tune, a woeful tale,
Of love once cherished, now despised,
Of trust betrayed, and hope capsized.
Through every crack and crevice there,
The essence of despair and care,
Seeped into the night’s embrace,
A bitter taste, a cold, dark place.
The moonlight cast a silver sheen,
On remnants of what had been,
A love story, twisted, broken,
By sour betrayal’s silent token.
The attic held a chest of dreams,
Now shattered by deceit’s dark schemes,
The letters, trinkets, memories dear,
All tainted by betrayal’s smear.
So, in that mansion of ancient stone,
Where bitter winds had always blown,
The tale of love, once bright and clear,
It was stained by betrayal’s darkest hue.
In every chamber, the shadows wept,
For promises that were not kept,
The echoes of a love gone sour,
Resounded in the midnight hour.
The house, a tomb of memories,
Of broken hearts and lost decrees,
Became the legacy of love’s demise,
A sombre tale beneath the skies in disguise.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
