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I woke up to his angry heavy footsteps again
my terrified beating heart is thick, not thin
the steps stop, and I am hoping it is my imagination of course.
But I hear him clear his throat, like a deer or a horse

my eyes pop open, I expect to see my shadow man
He can terrify me faster than almost anyone can
He’s my resident ghost, but what does he want?
I feel the bed go down a bit, and I hear a grunt.

Terrified more than ever, I say “How can I help you?”
He whispers one word. I think it is Stu..
Was this your house? I ask, holding my breath.
He materializes for a second, reminds me of my son Seth.

the bed rises, and I know he is going away.
Wait! Tell me how I can help! I manage to say.
My voice is hoarse, I am feeling scared of course.
“murdered,” he says sadly, his voice is hoarse.

I do some research and find a Stuart Blue.
He lived in this house until 1972.
He died at forty-six, they said suicide.
Now I wonder if his wife had something to hide.

I look her up and she welcomes me in.
She looks enough like my mother to be her twin.
She invites me to tea, but I dare not eat there.
After she tells me she has outlived Stu, Stan, Henry and Bear.

I found Stu's French Shriner dress shoes in my attic yesterday.
I told him about his wife, that she did not live far away.
Found out later that she passed away that very night.
Wonder is she saw Stu's ghost and died of fright?

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