A forgotten entity imprisoned in a forgotten place

Forgotten Places
By La Belle Rouge


I wander these halls, these desolate halls
where once the laughter of children rang.
They grew up, went to war, died too soon
on distant battlefields... buried like dogs
in unmarked graves of abandoned places
uninhabited but for echoes of the dead.
Oh Darlin Sons, red earth now cradles you
and forlorn breezes croon your lullabies.

Days and nights are all unchanged, except,
I descend grand staircase without thrill
into an elegant ballroom of encircling oaks
and then I ascend once again into nothing.
I even miss my husband, eternally sleeping
in the field behind ornate, wrought iron gate.
Cruel man who held captive souls and bodies
of those he bought and sold like angus cattle.

There is no more music nor sound of dancing.
No wafting of candle flames into magic night
nor scent of magnolia, gardenia and mown hay.
No neighing of carriage horses or cattle lowing,
no baying hounds to pursue the pitiful red foxes
across vivid, wildflower meadows, green and lush
I am alone, except for low moaning of the wind
and sounds of another lifetime that haunt me.

Is this my Hell, my punishment, for not opening
the gates and sending them all across the river
to feel sunlight of freedom on their dark faces?
If I could undo, redo, valiantly rise to occasion
would I perhaps have done things any differently?
Once I was a memory, now I’m only a minor myth
of rotund, swishing skirts and verbena perfume
floating through halls of a lonely, forgotten place



8/1/3013 La Belle Rouge