Your Poetry Dot Com - The Mystery of Great House

I toured the old mansion, and oh, it was grand; exploring each room with our tour guide at hand.
Imagine their lifestyle! The suppers and balls; the laughter and music that echoed these walls!

Shiny black carriages, gardens and stables; Men in crisp waistcoats and ladies in sables!
Life came and went, (but love proved much kinder); for down the Grand Hall it left quite a reminder!

The husbands, and fathers and sons told a story; the women of Great House portrayed in their glory!
In hundreds of paintings that lined the Grand Hall; each like a snapshot of moments recalled.

Mothers and daughters with lineage royal; in life-sized gilt frames and thick cracking oils.
It must have been hours we lingered beneath; to hear why each one was so richly bequeathed;

The young girls were first; sweet faces with fans; who flirted through veils; or folded gloved hands.
One bared her shoulder beneath a straw hat; Another held fast to her Siamese cat!

One gathered flowers in fields red as flame; (not knowing her beauty had put them to shame).
Two worked their needlepoint; one sipped her tea; the last had dark eyes that kept following me!

An archway of green framed a lily pond scene. His love and his oars seemed equally keen;
To chauffer her parasol round the grey lake; while idly her fingertip trailed in the wake.

At Christmas they gathered in red velvet gowns. Snowflakes and candlelight paid them renown;
Toasting their menfolk with blackberry wine; gloved hands around each goblet entwined.

A young boy and girl, posed rigid as boards--he like a willow; she like a gourd!
Crushed to her crinolines, children stood straight; (she was the matriarch, make no mistake!)

Some thought her delicate, lacey and frail, this creature for whom great warships would sail!
The ladies of Great House bespoke generations; (some would rule hearts and some would rule nations)!

At last she was painted leaving the room; at the end of the hall, (and her life, I presume).
Adjusting her glasses; and turning away; she’d found it all boring in some obscure way.

Thus ended my tour with my neck in a kink; but each lovely painting was worth it I think.
It did leave a question stuck in my mind; embarrassed to ask it, I lingered behind.

“Why were the paintings mounted so high?” The guide broke a smile; (and the house heaved a sigh).
“So loved ones looked skyward” -- and some swore they found a glimpse of an angel looking back down!

She palmed me an aspirin and heartily laughed; breaking the spell of Great House at last.

I’m not superstitious, but home on my wall; I Scotch-taped a snapshot of me in the hall!

Three months to that day, my fortunes arose; I landed a raise, and my boyfriend proposed!
You’ll never convince me that this had to do; with Great House, or some silly magic they brewed.

But just for good luck, our photos will be; hung in the hall by mutual decree!

This poem is Copyright ยฉ softerware