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Enigmatic Spirit

Poetry By: PaulChafer
Poetry



We live in an old house, it has creaks and rustles and groans and moans as temperature fluctuates and timbers shift. Or so I tell myself, for there are no such things as ghosts: are there?


Submitted:Nov 23, 2009    Reads: 114    Comments: 6    Likes: 7   


I glimpse her, as wearily,

I tread upon the stair;

Brief flickering movement

Which really isn't there.

She taunts, and teases,

Never showing her face,

Drifting along the landing,

With ballerina grace.

Quite often, whenever lonely,

Her sibilant voice calls;

A lingering shallow whisper,

Echoing softly from the walls.

She sounds, so haunting,

Like tinkling silver bells;

Ringing enticing incantations;

While casting ghostly spells.

Hairs bristle, on my neck;

Spine becoming trembling ice,

Freezing breath inside my throat:

Heart trapped within a vice.

We touch, I am afraid; but

My fear is that I'll find,

This unearthly spectral visitor

Is an unkindness of my mind.





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