Ah, you scoff. Well you should
have seen me in my heyday. Today
I am disheveled, but once
I was a glorious ballroom, where
guests looking their best would
dance in splendid pastel gowns,
and well-tailored suits. Hanging
crystal chandeliers caught
the light like prisms. Champagne
flowed. Lavish dinners were
served in a dining room that was
the epitome of elegance. If you
look closely, you can still
appreciate the splendor of my
cathedral ceiling. Columns gleamed
in green and white. Floor to
ceiling windows invited light
in day time, and magical moonbeams
at night. What a sight.
Won't you please restore me
to my former glory?
http://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/
I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York.
My goal is to create and share poetry with others
who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve
in you, and feel your sparks as well.
Very nicely you placed us in that ballroom in its heyday and the had hoping for a restoration. The pictured room and your tale put me into an abandoned farmhouse, a once elegant one, where I would spend afternoons of my playtime. Somehow I managed a key, hanging on a nail I think, so that I could come and go easily. I remember going there in my younger still days, the kids played while parents partied. It was hilltop, the next hill to the east of our home, three fourths mile? My little sister may have come with me once, I’ll ask her. I never was in trouble for being there, i.e. I didn’t get caught. After years and years some folks bought the farmstead ead and moved into the house. I hope they restored that one’s ballroom.
purplepeninportland 
You have beautifully spoken for that abandoned room. May it be restored for all to see! Love this Sara!
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Thanks, Carrie!
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Very nicely you placed us in that ballroom in its heyday and the had hoping for a restoration. The pictured room and your tale put me into an abandoned farmhouse, a once elegant one, where I would spend afternoons of my playtime. Somehow I managed a key, hanging on a nail I think, so that I could come and go easily. I remember going there in my younger still days, the kids played while parents partied. It was hilltop, the next hill to the east of our home, three fourths mile? My little sister may have come with me once, I’ll ask her. I never was in trouble for being there, i.e. I didn’t get caught. After years and years some folks bought the farmstead ead and moved into the house. I hope they restored that one’s ballroom.
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I’m glad I brought back that memory for you, Jim.
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That is an amazing power you had there, pulling me out of my chair and plopping me right inside a beautiful ballroom.
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Thanks so much, Lori!
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I like how you write from the perspective of the room. I can see a person with a mirror view would take this room as a challenge to restore.
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Thanks, Lisa!
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You’re welcome, Sara.
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