Ivana was once a beautiful ballerina,

Admirers pursued her; Monaco, Prague … Cologne

blurry images of the past,

That night her life changed - Forever

Muted screams, searing rubber … melted onto tar

Mangled metal, shattered headlights,

The stench of dripping fuel

 

A year later, she bought a charming store

A rusty bicycle, leaning near the door

In a cobbled lane way, a faded sign reads …

“Crazy Daisy’s Antiques”

She spends the days talking to her self,

Collecting nostalgia, dusting the shelves

The locals chuckle, convinced she’s mad!

 

Does she care? She has them under her spell

 

Amidst French mirrors and tarnished gramophones,

she tidies a pile of tattered magazines,

singing to the tunes of Dixie jazz.

Her clientele adore her strange ways,

the way she dances with her dolls,

a seductress swaying her hips

Her crazed smile, contagious yet sad

 

Memories of Lucinda from that fateful crash

Swirling through the incense – Reflections enmeshed

 

Near the back, towards the counter,

the Ottoman lamp always burns.

Small minarets flicking across purple velvet,

eerie shadows play behind the curtain,

like a sinister pantomime, unfolding.

Some have heard the voice before,

Its raspy chill cutting through the black void!

 

Crazy Daisy sheds a tear

Her friend will always be near

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I re-read The Raven by Poe earlier and I was still in the mood for more spookiness, so thank you! :)

Hey Lee, thanks for the comment. Would be cool to own an antique shop like that :-) Haven't read Poe's raven for many years. Time to go back and read it again. Thanks for the inspiration!

Cheers
Tom

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