The Haunted House

As the staircases creak
The noise echoes and scares
Worried spirits may haunt and sneak

Hearing the drip drop
Afraid it's not the rain 
That comes from all around

Feeling a chill in the air
It's not the weather outside
Is it spirits to bring fear

Then comes the night
Feel a hand's cold touch
There's no one in sight

The hand reaching out
It must be a demon
You begin to shout

Behind you eyes appear
It must be a Spector in the dark
You can see no body there

Consumed by fright
Run while screaming 
From this house that night
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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