One for Luck and Love


Tripping up the staircase,
I reach for the banister,
But, of course, I miss.
And loosing my footing,
into the wall I tip.
Instead of spiraling wood,
ancient wallpaper,
my fingertips have found to kiss.

My hands brush onward,
over velvet blue roses
stretching the expanse of the well.
Stunning, simply stunning,
Craftsmanship such as this.
Into the hallway
I catch myself, stumbling,
And having reached that great expanse,
pause only to steal back my breath
from the cold fire,
buzzing inside my chest.

Fading below me ,
a song.
One that in my current state,
I fancied would absorb itself
into the walls of this castle,
and make a home, henceforth.
Laughter ,
the tinkling of champeighn glasses,
boisterous, unapologetic Jazz,—
The etching of an era.
I bet downstairs (haha!)
the twins are falling on their asses.
Tonight the Hotel lives.

Whoopsie*hic*
Carelessly,
I had stepped on another little green fairy.
“Not to worry, not to worry!”,
It chittered at me.
Down the vast expanse of thread,
confetti-covered,
maroon and paisley plush ,
it went skittering.
Swimmingly, I might add
and sporting a lush.
What a lovely place,
to have just the smallest,
wink of a nap,-

Ding!
Gigantic red doors and golden gates,
beriddled with age moan decidedly,
Down the left hand corridor behind me.
A brilliant thought, the elevator.
Certainly would have been smart.
Silly.
Old habits.
Old me.
Wandering the the halls so late!
What will the ghosts think ?
I cackled at myself.
What will the ghosts think.
Perhaps we will ask one,
Upon the next turn!

And yet, on rounding the corner
of the well lighted passage,
There were no ghosts,
no spooks, no Spirit of Harassment,
but instead stood a man.
Flesh bone and brain,
with earthen eyes, sun-stained.

At his aura I smiled devilishly
and to the pale stranger said I,
“Sir, the festivities are down below.
What may these halls offer you
the party cannot bestow ?
Ought not you partake in this new age
of revelry and mire?
A girl in her right mind
would think you a regular,
or perhaps, a bell polisher. ”
To which the angel cordially replied,
“Madam,
to seek such asunder would
tamper the beast.
My preference is here;
in silence and peace.”
Why not yourself, be attending the
party ?
If you’re up here, my dear,
as a gentleman well knows,
the bank must be closed.“

A sound like a whistle,
then a blast;
a hot flash through the curtain of black, Halted, briefly, our conversation,
and together we stared,
at which irony pointed us.
Out the hotels tall window,
there happened a sudden violence
of Roman Candles in the snow.
Midnight chimed in the belfry,
and in a motion then,
we strangers kissed,
And a cry arose throughout the stay.
A cry that shared a unanimous sentiment.
It’s proposal was this,
the same as these simple words
exchanged through the kiss;
Happy New Year!
Be it filled with good luck,
and bliss.

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