The Sparks Street House

Alice Sparks, a name so sweet,
Lived on a road that did retreat,
To a world so small, so incomplete,
That you can only visit on an errand's beat.

But Aunt Alice, as she was known,
Was not quite like any aunt you'd flown,
To meet, with beauty that had grown,
From lifetimes of secrets she had sown.

A chipped red door led the way,
To a world of magic, where you'd stay,
And learn the secrets of a past day,
That in your mind forever would play.

But as the tea flowed, and memories too,
You realize you'd soon bid adieu,
To a world of wonder that once drew,
Your mind to a place so bright and new.

With passion and grief, you embrace and depart,
Knowing that memories will soon fall apart,
And the journey you took, a lost art,
A world of magic that would forever depart.

You wake up to a cobbler's embrace,
In a dark parlor with a solemn grace,
And eyes that still held the same face,
Of Aunt Alice's, with a different pace.

You realize you can't go back,
To the world of magic and things off track,
And the talismans and trinkets in a sack,
Are not yours, but you can't keep track.

Your room is not quite the same,
The window open to a cellar's game,
Leading up to a world untamed,
And the memories of Alice Sparks aflame.

As the dream space unravels, you see,
A message from Alice, to thee,
On the paper that flaps in the wind so free,
A message that sends shivers through thee.

You wake up in terror, in fright,
The horror of the night, a sight,
Of a world that's gone, with all its might,
And Alice Sparks, an eternal light.

Ryan Caldarone

Ryan is a copywriter and marketing consultant. His minimal aesthetic results in projects with SEO-optimized copy and business-driven strategy.

http://www.pocketwriter.biz
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The Close of Saturnalia