A Failed Repossession
For purchasing a new house, I rejoice,
Yet always hear a faint, unearthly voice.
"Is it a ghost—or spirits?" I ponder,
And tremble with fear as my thoughts wander.
Doors creak shut, then unlock, then close again;
A wild wind hurls a window from its pane.
A whisper sighs, "This once belonged to me,"
Then thunders forth, "Hand over now the key!"
A sudden chill sweeps my feet off the grounds;
My trembling soul spins in unearthly rounds.
I'm bound within the monster's cold, dark reins—
My spirit flees, a soulless shell remains.
He then appears in a barrel-shaped hat,
Above it flaps a lone, screeching fruit bat.
He walks toward me—his left arm severs;
As he stoops, I glimpse scars on his revers.
He tries to laugh—some of his teeth fall off;
They roll beneath the stones beside the trough.
He seems quite unperturbed that they lie there—
He minds instead the terror in his stare.
"Bring the key! The house is mine!" he bellows;
The red spark within his eyes now mellows.
Then I roar back, "I rebuke you, vile ghost!"
"You've no power o'er me!" he dares to boast.
But then he turns around and slowly fades;
Low murmurs echo through the rooftop shades.
The cup and saucer in his grasp both break—
His shadow sinks with noise into the lake.
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