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A church clock struck midnight, from far far away,
    Overhead, the pale moon was veiled, by dark clouds of grey.
    Two young boys were watching, from their own makeshift den,
    Aiming to prove to friends they weren't mice, but men.
    As gravestones scraped noisily, upon sharp gravel paths,
    The small boys gulped loudly, and subdued nervous laughs.
    But when a corpse clambered out, of a wide open grave,
    The two boys took fright, not feeling so brave.
    With their eyes now wide open, and holding their breath,
    They clung to each other, and were worried to death.
    As the corpse turned around, and staggered their way,
    They closed both of their eyes, and started to pray.
    Soon as a ghoul crawled out, from behind the headstone,
    They felt a little queasy, and started to groan.
    Suddenly, two cold  hands touched them,  pinching their ears
    They both screamed out loudly, then burst into tears.
    But it was just  their eldest brother a prankster called Rick,
    Who,for a bit of devilment, played  an old schoolboy trick.
    They had been watching tv., camped on the hearth rug.
    By the cosy fireside, in their own little snug.
    That night in their beds, what tapped the window pane,
    Was it the leaking gutter, now filling with rain.
    Or whose are those shadows, that stealthily creep.
    So underneath the bedsheets, they tried their hardest to sleep
                      
                                      8/ 14/ 2017.    POET'S SHADOW   GREG BARDON.

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