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.