A red robe discarded, limp and empty on the marble floor
The hand that dropped it rests atop a hidden altar
And the voices of revellers echo through the halls
Where fires once burned, but all is now dark
Footsteps have come and gone, the way out is shut
Deeper lies the path beyond doorways to shadow
Further down await the secrets
Sought by the hands that grip the black stone
Music in air thick with desperation
Seeping from the long hallway, out of the darkness
The lull, ebbing tide of sleep approaches
Carried away from morning into night
Far from the sun shining on halls of horror
The red robe a pool of blood upon the floor
Red Robe
The Light is On 
4 responses to “Red Robe”
There’s something wonderfully old-fashioned about flannel. It’s like the coziest hug from your favorite grandma. That’s not to say a flannel bathrobe is dowdy or unflattering. In fact, PajamaGram’s Stewart Plaid Robe is bright and cheerful, with a cut that flatters without being too tight or too baggy.
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I absolutely love this! Your word usage is great; it really paints a vivid picture. And that last line, just amazing!
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Thank you so much (: this poem was inspired by a movie, The Masque of the Red Death. A bit older, but such good visual storytelling, if somewhat gruesome.
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Of course, you’re very welcome! 😊 And that’s really cool! I’ll have to check the movie out! It sounds really interesting.
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