At twelve, at midnight
When there is no light
The haunted house
When ghosts do prowl
Sinister the silence
Steals the night
When owls their time
In darkness fight
Through webs and dust
And creaking floors
Shadows of ghosts
With arms do crawl
Swinging doors
And rocking chairs
With fear I tremble
Over books I stumble
I hear it's breath
So close to me
Around my throat
Fingers gnaw
Shrieks of owls
My screams they smother
Eerie laughs
And whispers blend
Numb, motionless
Shocked to the bone
I gasp for air
I'm here all alone
YOU ARE READING
The Feel Of Poetry #Wattys2017
Poetry#28 in poetry. I love reading poetry just as I enjoy writing poems. It was always my desire to write poetry but just didn't get down to it. Now that I have a bit of time on hand I have decided to compile a book of all my poems. HOPE YOU ENJOY !!!
