Dark shadows lurking in the paintings,
Shades of brown with no hidden meanings.
The footsteps follow the classic music of fire crackling,
All the while the ominous sound of the wind rattling.
Moonlight peering through the window,
But the curtains dancing hold back the glow.
One beat, two beats later,
The bow found its violin like a human to the creator.
Just then…
Suddenly, the violin stops, the teacup half empty,
Who was here? Maybe James Moriarty?
The footsteps pause and take in the scene,
Only to be met with the silence so serene.
He then wondered, who was here?
Maybe a figment of his imagination so clear?
Written on: 24th March, 2024
ESTÀS LLEGINT
Luminous Stars
PoesiaThe third set of poems that I started writing in 2023. And am continuing to write more this year in 2024!
