A Twisted Tale

While waiting to move Wynter into her apartment in NY. We visited an antique store and came across this painting. I snapped a picture of it, wanting to write about it.

This is the result.

**

A sacrifice, she thought not twice,

of offering every single thing she had.

Her little girl, with golden curl,

to the maker of the oddly made command.

*

Dressed her in white, to her delight,

she placed a tiny bow upon her head.

She paid no mind, pushed it behind,

the notion of the soon impending dread.

*

She made her way through narrow halls,

that led her to a door all painted black.

Is someone there, fearfully she calls,

the knowing now, insists, she must turn back.

*

The tiny child, now crying wild,

bounces and shakes, as they run into the light.

Her mother tries to calm the child,

from the terror chasing them out of the night.

*

Back in her room, she lays baby down,

sees a reflection in the mirror and cries in horror.

The little babe, she frightfully bound,

was not her bright child, anymore.

*

Under the door, she’d locked up tight.

the shadows appeared, greedily slithering in.

Her little girl, a vision of fright,

leaving her mother with a pile of porcelain skin.