Paragraphs of Yellowed Print

I've been re-examining my poem for the last couple of days (now that it has come back from my editor), and reached a point in the story where I had long ago cut the following lines. It's the same point in the poem now where I need to rewrite some  missteps after permanently cutting this (below) and losing storyline movement, (note: the rhyme is not very complex as this never went through very many drafts):

as floorboards from the rocker creak
a crooked finger prods your cheek
while wrinkles stretched across his frame
twitch wildly from the candle flames

his grimace shoots past tattered tomes
of leather cracked like ancient bones
while tinged and brittle documents
shed paragraphs of yellowed print

While this was more in line with the mood of the poem, and I loved the imagery - it didn't fit the location of the action which at this point takes place on a front porch the night of Halloween. (Unfortunately the whole landscape and set of objects sound more like a castle than the small doorstep of a single family home, and I just didn't feel it worked). 

While most lines are wiped out during the writing process, (and there are pages and pages of discarded lines sent to the voids of space), I suppose I had thought I might put this back in, and so it lingered at the end of my document for months. Obviously at this stage, it's definitely history, but I still enjoy this little snippet, and wanted to take a moment to recreate it here on the blog.