In a chamber, dark and drear, sat a man with woeful leer,
Pondering his life’s demise, sorrow mirrored in his eyes.
Once a merchant full of cheer, known and praised from far and near,
Now a bankrupt shell of woe, fettered by misfortune’s blow.
For his wife, fair Elise, in days rich with lavish ease,
Swooned and sighed, her love professed, in his arms she found her rest.
Yet when fortune ceased to smile, when their wealth reduced to bile,
Elise, with her beauty rare, vanished in the misty air.
Gone the love that once did bind, gone the warmth, he’s left behind,
In this crypt of lost ambition, solitude his sole condition.
Candles flicker in the gloom, prophesying pending doom,
Elise’s portrait on the wall seems to mock his tragic fall.
From his heart, a vengeful groan, love transmuted into stone,
“What foul curse does love contain, turning bliss to endless pain?
O Elise, my darling dear, is it gold you so revere?
Is my love of so low worth, banished for mere trinkets’ dearth?”
Yet no answer could he find, silence heavy on his mind,
Abyss called him from below, whispering release from woe.
Though his spirit near was broke, from his lips there softly spoke,
A prayer for his Elise, “Find your peace, and be at ease.”
He gazed long upon her face, framed in gold but void of grace,
Then he quenched the candles’ glow, joining darkness he did know.
In this tale of love’s demise, … Read the rest