The light it shines upon steps of stone,
catching flecks of dust in the air,
Making them dance in a luminescent gold
giving them life and flair,
Faint breeze drifts along
the corridor,
Giving life to the ghosts
that roamed before,
Up the spiralled staircase
round,
So very high
above the ground,
A door that’s filled
with such apprehension,
Into a room filled with horrors
and tension,
Iron rungs secure chains
high and low on the walls,
Can but imagine the sorrow
from all the tear falls,
Both tortured and tragic
this room took her life,
Chained up beaten and worse
The poor condemned wife….

.x.

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