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.