I remember her house on 58th Street,
always dark, always black curtains,
the smell of mothballs and cobwebs
seeping through the door.
Some said she was a witch.
Some said her children had died.
Some said a boy had gone missing
and was locked in her closet.
We never knew if it was true.
She had a dog, Boy Dog,
scruffy, growling, lurking by the porch.
In autumn, walking home from school,
I’d get up the nerve and pass her house,
sometimes catching her in the upstairs window,
all in black, watching, smiling.
One afternoon, we knocked on her door,
heart hammering, voices shaking.
She answered, said she needed to grab her sweater.
She came back out, hands empty, eyes wide.
“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” she said,
raising her hands and walking toward us.
We ran, heart pounding,
like we were trying out for the track team.
And sometimes, just sometimes,
I wonder if she was laughing,
or crying, or both.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 8th, 2026 10:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Thank you for listening. 📖 Explore my books on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX ▶️ More full poetry readings on my YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@ThomasWCase — Thomas W. Case
- Category: Unclassified
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Comments9
Well written. I think we all had some kind of mean old person in the neighborhood.🤪We can laugh now. Your poem captures the tension between curiosity and fear, ultimately leading to a reflection on the complexities of human emotion, wondering if the woman was laughing or crying.
Thank you.
Good write Tom.
ty
How very peculiar, I can relate to this one too .. how strange is that .. 👍
lol. Thanks.
How identifiable. As kids there was an abandoned house in the field we dared each other to enter either through the dog door or though that cellar door we crawled to see what was inside. A great write
Yes. Thank you.
Most welcome my friend
Reminds me of the scene in 'Meet me in St Louis' when the little girl walks up to that 'Scary' house one Halloween.
Enjoyed your Poem.
Thank you.
'And sometimes, just sometimes,
I wonder if she was laughing,
or crying, or both.'
Those lines nail the whole piece; 'or both' the pivot. Vivid portrait, Thomas.
I appreciate it.
Thomas, this feels so familiar…those neighborhood legends we built as kids around one mysterious house or person. Reading it took me straight back to those walks home from school, when imagination filled in all the blanks. The way you end it with that wondering…laughing or crying…gives the memory real depth. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you.
Most welcome.
Your poem builds atmosphere through sensory detail:Visual: “black curtains,” “upstairs window,” “all in black.”Smell: “mothballs and cobwebs.”Sound and motion: the dog’s “growling,” the children’s “heart pounding.”These create a cinematic, haunted-house feeling. The repetition of darkness suggests both literal gloom and the children’s ignorance about who the woman really was. Well Done Brother
I appreciate it, brother.
A fine write, Thomas. Nicely done.
Thank you, Tom.
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