LIGHTHOUSE REVISITED
The gale battered the lighthouse, high up on the rock;
The lighthouse keeper shivered and double-checked the lock.
Tonight he expected visitors, the dreaded , fearful sight
That marked each anniversary of that tragic, fatal night.
The night he slept on duty and the lamp ran out of fuel
And the schooner, with no guidance, met a fate most cruel.
Now they clamoured at the windows, the ghastly zombie crew.
Bony fingers beckoning, “Now it’s time for you.”
They found him in the morning, stiff and cold in death.
Mouth open in primeval scream that marked his final breath.
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