The Antique

Dust fills my mouth with a timeless poltergeist rapping
Lightly upon a dusty door
It locks the days together
Yesterday
This artefact wasn't rightly so
Flanked by shelves incorporating me into their lonely dream
I search for tremors lying weeping
'Neath the broken tiled floor
Weeping with a broken madness
Weeping for the day before
Tarnished silver in the cupboard soothes
The fathoms of my aching silver beard
Like shining eyes scoured by
A sour creaking gait
Cataracts dim the
Eloquence that wore
The shining cloak of younger pride
And this was long
Long before their careless keeper died.

A revenant spread its foul curse to every living thing
With stories trapp'd on yellowed pages
By talismans of poignant lethargy
Tales twilit bear their ruin'd words
To this ghoulish scenery
Slouching over candlelight
Extinguished in another century.

The grandfather clock once told its beads
While outside the branches
Bowed their windows slightly out of key
And this downstairs, where a
Forlorn clock has long since lost its faith
And a house's stale breath sighs like the
Whispers of a wraith.

Spiders decorate an appearance
That stretches gnarled hands
Back into a relinquished parlour game
Wisps of ghostly languor hinting faintly of perique
Ring the ancyent air and fade
Murmuring of things antique.