The ghost is huddled at the end of my hallway
in a dark corner where the light fails; its hands
curl over its knees, attempting to be hidden
like a child in a strange place.
 
It stands at the corner of my sight
and I stand frozen in front of
its ilky black shadowy form.
And I am afraid to go over there
or, even, to move.
 
Because it’s watching me.
 
With an ounce of courage
I turn my head slightly, imperceptibly,
and with one eye
gaze at the spot where it huddles.
 
The ghost is not there.
The silent watcher has disappeared.
 
With both eyes I now look
to where the guest once hid
and the fear does not leave me
as I feel its presence having fled
to another place in my home,
waiting for me to come.

I've got three more poems before I can officially close the 2015 Halloween poetry series I started back in October. The reason why I have yet to finish the three is because I'm not in the seasonal mood for scary poetry anymore. Stupid Christmas season is already seeping in everywhere, pre-Thanksgiving. But inspiration comes sometimes, late at night, usually at times when I don't want to write. So I make myself and these kinds of poems get cranked out.

Stay tuned, I'll have the next three up sometime soon.

Halloween, Poetry, Scary, Guest, Ghost, Poem, Parker, Jennings

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