The Haunting

THE HAUNTING

I lie in bed listening, there it is again,
A scratching sound, scraping on wood and then,
A moaning ,woeful wind pressing and trying the bedroom door !
With a soundless ease, it opens and a gaping space of black enters.
My heart beats loudly and races even more !

Seconds pass and then I feel it, a black mass, in a black shape hovering to the side of my bed,
I scream and I pull the white ,shroud-like covers tight
Over my head!
I will not look, I will not look,
Ahhh,  its morning !
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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