An enigma hid in the mansion of forgotten dreams,
Where shadows whispered silent screams,
Shrouding the enigma, cloaked in night,
A tale obscured from mortal sight.
Mirrors and ghosts haunted the halls,
Reflecting secrets through eerie walls,
Glimmers of the past in moonlit haze,
Lost in time’s labyrinthine maze.
Candles flickered, wan and pale,
Telling secrets of the frail,
Of love that perished, dreams that bled,
In rooms where silence masked the dead.
Mirrors cracked by sorrow’s hand,
Reflected a world so dark, so grand,
Where whispered words and solemn cries blended with the wind’s mournful sighs,
Lost relics of a time long banned.
Portraits stared with hollow eyes,
Guardians of forgotten lies,
Their painted smiles hid the tears,
Of long-lost souls and vanished years.
Cobwebs draped the chandelier,
Rustling with each breath of fear,
As footsteps echoed on the floor,
A haunting rhythm, evermore.
The garden, wild with thorns and greed,
A relic of time’s cruel speed,
Where once bloomed roses, red and fair,
Now stands a graveyard of despair.
The clock tower, rusted, struck no chime,
A sentinel to decaying time,
Its hands froze in endless plight,
Marking the hour of infinite night.
In the library, dust-covered tomes,
Spoke of lives and silent glooms,
Of poets lost in melancholy,
Their words were a dance of solemn folly.
By the hearth, now cold and dead,
Lay ashes of words that once were said,
Their warmth, a memory, now faded,
In silence, their essence was jaded.
The ballroom, grand, now stood forlorn,
Echoing with a silent horn,
Where once the waltz of life granted delight,
Now shadows danced in the muted light.
An ancient portrait framed in gold,
Of shadows, beautiful and bold,
Their eyes, an enigma, deep and wide,
Held secrets of the dark inside.
Whispers floated through the air,
Of love betrayed, of deep despair,
A haunting tale of sorrow’s kiss,
An enigma wrapped in the mist.
The attic held a secret chest,
With treasures lost and stories left in bequest,
A diary of a broken heart,
Torn apart, a tragic art.
Beneath the mansion’s grand façade,
A magic vault where shadows guarded,
A legacy of pain and woe,
Where tears and whispers dwindled low.
The enigma, wrapped in sorrow’s veil,
A ghostly ship in endless sail,
Its secrets whispered through the gloom,
In the mansion, an eternal garden of thorns that never ceased to bloom.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
