Masks and red roses
Tied with black ribbons
Gilded mirrors with faux glass
Hiding passage ways
A rustle of a cape
Was that a laugh?
Is he watching?
Is it you imagination?
Letters signed O. G.
Demanding his way
Accidents – and divas
Threatened by his whims
Keep your hand at the level of your eye
Stay out of the fifth cellar
Avoid the lake beyond
The Opera Ghost does exist
The proof?
The shards of crystal strewn upon the seats
Directly under where the chandelier once hovered
Grand and perfect
Now a mass of broken glass and shattered dreams
Like the hope that a deformed Angel can ascend
Back to heaven
