Down Quistly Lane Poem by Richard D Remler

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Fernest Quistly, sterk and plain,
Haunts the house on Quistly Lane.
The one once painted forest green,
Now overlooked, unkempt, unseen.

The sun dial in the yard still works
It's one of Fernest's clever quirks,
To check the dial day and night,
To make certain that it works just right.

And the crocus garden on the side
Where Eldwin Deemer's tulips hide,
Still blooms in spring, when winters gone,
When the curse of winter has moved on.

Of course, there are times the old house weeps.
I blame the memories she keeps.
Such sadness one ought not to share
With all the shadows lurking there.

The windows, they look off the shelf brand-new,
All red, and green, and pink and blue.
All the colors of the week,
Soigned to a shimmer as we speak.

And ah, ol' Fernest has a glow.
She shines so bright from head to toe.
All stark and rummy, quent and plain,
Our specter Queen of Quistly Lane.


Copyright © MMXV Richard D. Remler