Neat golden lettering on marbled paper
by time and its sun.
A pair of scales hangs in mid-air,
weighing the light
of the lamps flickering in distaste.
Half rotten and full of cobwebs,
an enchanted gimmick
to float and sing
and make the room smell
of sweet perfumes.
Scraping off the sign has such finality.
turning up the collars of our long coats
as we try to warm our ears.