Strange Abode

 Strange Abode

A leery and winding road led me to a cul-de-sac,

an old residence, this strange abode lured me 

in its doorway like a warm guest,

I entered the ravished gem-shackled mansion,

upon my entrance,

I stared long at this black widow spider in a corner

as it played Mozart's "Serenade Gran Partita."

My first step nearly squished a flamboyant mouse

who seemed to dine alone as it grinned

with a diastema wide as an ivory key.

The hallway lay in oak hardwood and stood firmly

as I creaked across the doorway of some forgotten

servant's room, a ghost appeared as some mute

ageless hologram, my guide to this eerie museum

of otherworldly mystique.

The ghost led me to the stairwell,

I climbed each step,

as if I were Lord Hyattsworn himself;

there on the first-floor hallway

each passing portrait lit up

as if I were their new resurrecting god.

On the balcony, I stared up at the full moon,

and slowly turned around,

"Good Evening Sir, glad you could make it," the figure

said in the shadows, there at that moment I knew

I made the wrong turn.