Status:
Finished |
Genre: Horror |
House:
Booksie Classic
The Signalman
The night is another land
With strange shapes
And deformed hands,
With faces half seen
In lucid dreams,
With phantom pains
And noises
No-one can explain,
I gaze out the window pane
At the flames dancing
Across night's black membrane,
The signalman's burnt down
His cottage,
He's gone insane,
He's lost the timetable
To the suburban trains.
© Copyright 2018 tom mcmullen. All rights reserved.
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