The old cellar door

Once upon a midnight dreary
When fog had rolled in, dark and eerie.
I found my first taste of amór
Behind the old cellar door.

Yes, on this dark and stormy night
I spied from there unearthly light.
Not knowing what could be in store
I needed to find out more.

I drew closer; that I dared.
Although the cellar had me scared.
No one had been there, I was sure,
For fifty years or more.

Twas still a far better thing to do
Than if I left and never knew
A woman, not yet twenty-four
A nightgown all she wore.

A picture out of bygone days
Who barely turned and met my gaze
The sight, it struck me to the core.
As the wind sighed “nevermore”.

I went back in the light of day
When all the fog had burned away.
But there was only dust, no more
Behind the old cellar door.

Part of NaNoWriMo Penance. Title donated by Joe C.

Apparently “cellar door” is the most beautiful phrase in the English language.

“Inspired” by a bunch of famous poems and books, and also kinda yesterday’s poem.