The Ghosts of the Eola Hotel
Her tinkling ivories resounded
a lonely tune of yesteryear.
The spirit guests sat confounded
to hear what once was theirs.
Miss Julia arose slowly, glowing,
a vision transparent appeared.
Pale, too pale, yet stunning, with
eyes of beauty, sightless to peer.
Black hair long and silkly,
sweet face, reflecting her fear.
Turning her voice to the waiting,
singing again for their ears.
Her whispery voice echoing,
enchanting, and calming their fears.
Her tragic death so grueling,
leaving a misery and tears.
Memories of horrors and spatterings,
too eerie and ghastly to bear.
She sings a haunting tune,
lost love, troubling, soul searing.
The guests mourned and condoled
the story of her ravaged undoing.
An unspoken decision assended.
To meet again, same time, next year.
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