A GHOST STORY

A heavy thud
That comes from nowhere
A door handle
That slightly turns
A loose board creaks
Without a step
The smell of
Candle wax that burns.

A soft whisper
Upon the moment
A touch
But no one there
A creaking of
A distant door
A gentle lifting
Of your hair.

Footsteps in the attic
Childrens voices
Still at play
A rocking chair
That smoothly sways
Energy in the air.

The corridor
Narrow foreboding
Long and wisping
Seems to send
A message threatening
Stop !
Go no further
To its end.