On some day I'd forgotten,
Three winters ago,
I stumbled across,
Room 8.
Courtiers from within,
Beckoned with questionable smiles,
That stabbed at,
Intently,
Curiosity.

Just beyond,
The garnished door,
Lay carpet so lush,
It seemed to,
Glisten,
With its own beads of sweat,
That met,

The never coming ends,
Of rambunctious, silk drapery,
That dripped -
That dripped -
From the ceilings in reds,
So red they wrestled with passion.

And a peek beyond,
I couldn't keep my glimpse,
From pooling onto the,
Glasses,
That quivered.

Panes that gave way,
To silent,
Slain spirits,

Rocking back,
And then forth -

Spirits who had,
Lost,
Their ***** words,
To emotion.