On the corner of Pine and Box
Stood a shop all dark and disheveled.
I peeked through the window,
Though covered in grime,
And saw an old man, Mr. Knox,
Twisted and bent over with time.
I pass through rusted hinges and faded teal wood,
To enter the shop where Mr. Knox stood.
Much to my pain, my shock, and my horror,
The scream of a young maiden
Rang through the store.
But no woman was present, save only memory,
And the scream was but the bell above the door.
I ventured still, past potted plants, long since death,
Through the cold corner store with steamed breath.
At once, a strange animal, four legged and fanged,
Ran past me, unknowing, and I was dismayed.
He aimed to besmirch, sat with a crooked smirk,
But the creature was only a statue.
Once again I saw the store a-stirring,
A child of five years waved weapons
But the youth was myth, sat in painting,
And had nothing to disarm me with.
Deep in the back, there was no returning,
I spotted a beast that contented my yearnings.
88 keys, no locks and no doors,
All of a sudden, I had found what I was looking for!
With further inspection, my eyes, pray did not deceive,
Saw 88 fingers as piano keys.
What a twisted contraption
And without further action,
I watched as the piano shifted.
From my feet I was lifted by
A crimson tongue through gnarled teeth,
I was swallowed whole before I could speak.
Mr. Knox approaches with a laugh on his lips,
He reaches for the skeleton keys, too far Gone from his wits.
And his melancholy melodies
Still ring from where he sits.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
On the corner of Pine and Box
Stood a shop all dark and disheveled.
I peeked through the window,
Though covered in grime,
And saw an old man, Mr. Knox,
Twisted and bent over with time.
I pass through rusted hinges and faded teal wood,
To enter the shop where Mr. Knox stood.
Much to my pain, my shock, and my horror,
The scream of a young maiden
Rang through the store.
But no woman was present, save only memory,
And the scream was but the bell above the door.
I ventured still, past potted plants, long since death,
Through the cold corner store with steamed breath.
At once, a strange animal, four legged and fanged,
Ran past me, unknowing, and I was dismayed.
He aimed to besmirch, sat with a crooked smirk,
But the creature was only a statue.
Once again I saw the store a-stirring,
A child of five years waved weapons
But the youth was myth, sat in painting,
And had nothing to disarm me with.
Deep in the back, there was no returning,
I spotted a beast that contented my yearnings.
88 keys, no locks and no doors,
All of a sudden, I had found what I was looking for!
With further inspection, my eyes, pray did not deceive,
Saw 88 fingers as piano keys.
What a twisted contraption
And without further action,
I watched as the piano shifted.
From my feet I was lifted by
A crimson tongue through gnarled teeth,
I was swallowed whole before I could speak.
Mr. Knox approaches with a laugh on his lips,
He reaches for the skeleton keys, too far Gone from his wits.
And his melancholy melodies
Still ring from where he sits.
