Delights and dread in a garden where roses once bloomed black as the night,
Lay a tale of bliss that ended in fright.
An exquisite feast had been set with the finest of fare,
But those who partook had to tread with utmost care.
The wraith, with eyes like the chill of the void,
Had greeted the wanderers with a presence devoid.
It offered them visions from an ancient mystic chalice,
Each glance a whisper, a fragment of malice.
The banquet had been a marvel, a sensory delight,
And shadows danced eerily in the flickering light.
The air was perfumed with the scent of flowers and decay,
A subtle hint of doom that was not far away.
Each dish had been a wonder, a culinary art,
Yet poison lay hidden in each sumptuous part.
The guests were enraptured by flavours so rare,
Unaware of the lurking danger hidden there.
The melody grew haunting, a mournful refrain,
As one by one, the guests felt creeping pain.
Their visions grew darker, their breaths grew thin,
The poison revealed the death hiding within.
The ghost observed with a gaze cold and grim,
As guests fell silent, their faces grew dim.
For this had been its realm, a domain of delight and dread,
Where the line between life and death was faintly marked.
The roses drank deeply from the blood-soaked earth,
Their petals darkened, marking a sinister rebirth.
In that garden of delights and foreboding strife,
The veil between beauty and death was razor-thin.
Asymptotic allure of a banquet so grand,
In a garden where delights and dread walked side by side.
For the pleasures once experienced in the moon’s eerie light,
They may have led to a slumber that lasted beyond any night.
The fragments of shadows, the sighs of dread,
Lingered in the garden where life once trod.
A tale of dark enchantment, a feast full of fear,
Where the line between life and death was starkly sheer.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
