A red dining hall hosts the dancing revelry

of dust swirling in the air,

while the flowers on the wall

peel slowly from the paper.

White, linen ghosts stand forlorn—

showing their deformity and uselessness.

A soft glow illuminates decay's devilry.

Windows with coal black bars

cast shadows that form the pattern

of a chess board across a moth eaten rug,

up the molding china cabinet,

over the tarnished silver tea set,

and on the family portraits glued to the wall.

The shadow is only interrupted

when it reaches the crack

that cuts this house in two.

The divide affects

every hall, every floor, and every room.

When the wind blows through the crack

it forces the dust to join the dance again.

Eventually the dust will settle back

on top of the treasures

of the family that once dined in the red hall.