In a draped parlor, <br />The soft Lady <br />Waits on her brocade <br />Chair. <br /> <br />Delicate, tiny, <br />Slippered feet, soundless <br />As she rises, <br />Greets <br /> <br />Her guest. Always <br />Arriving on <br />Time. Never hurried, <br />Calm. <br /> <br />She turns over the <br />Keys to her mansion. <br />Opens the drapes <br />Wide. <br /> <br />Never sunlight. <br />Always complete <br />Darkness takes her chair. <br />Night<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evening-28/
