The house is painted blackout,
Spirits wandering, room to room,
My lamp of light is speechless,
As horror holds fast the gloom.
A crashing sound like mirror glass
quickdraws my breath away,
Gives chilling sight, defines my plight,
Like love fell shattered lay.
Anguish lunges past the door,
With dubious intent foreseen,
Starts a stutter crawl, then bloody jump
In a screaming dash at me.
Ronald Whetsell's Creative Writing and Poetry Blog 