Nana B. Poet Light Verse

Chilling

We played the game, the horrid game
   Of tricks and candles in the dark
Reciting a name, a horrid name
   Our hands started moving on their own
We asked it questions, horrible questions
   The Spirit presented a forthcoming omen
We shook our heads, our foolish heads
   We blew out the candles that night
Suddenly the room grew cold, oh too cold
   Chills were felt through out our spines
Then a gash of light appeared, appeared it did 
   Turns out it was the fridge lay open bright
One of us screamed, a hideous scream
   She claimed it stank of rotten eggs
One of us fainted, dramatically fainted
   He claimed it was not the eggs
From there we were curious, curious we all should have been!
   Upon inspection, it was just spoiled milk
From there we cried, a loud shared cry
   Because we realized we just drank that milk!

Was this the omen, the woe-filled omen?
 We all thought as we touched our stomachs
Was this the omen, the painful omen?
     
        But then, who last opened the fridge?
...

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