The Haunted Watcher
There back he squealed and raced towards the door,
But as he ran he could not feel his feet upon the floor,
He stood just at the front door and waited for the key
But no one turned it in the lock no one came to see
He ran down the hallway and looked through the window
There she was just walking past looking at his house
Making notes in a small brown paper book
He placed his hand upon the glass no longer making a mark
He called hello but unfortunately, no sound came out
She turned around a tear in her eye he watched her almost cry
You see this was her Uncle's house who was killed during the war
That little boy who watched her now was the only one left there
His mother had left just for the milk Just left him for a second
But the army man had shot her first and the child just by mistake.
His mother stayed here for a while but something stronger called her home
Now he walks the halls alone; he is the only one there now.
He rarely now has visitors no one calls to see
He watched her disappear through the gate and heard an engine roar
He knew no one else would ever call they never had returned
But who would buy a haunted house, haunted by a child
The blood-stained steps could still be seen or so the locals told
The candles flickered in the dark shots can still be heard
He slowly walked back down the hall and glided up the stairs
He lay himself upon the floor and wanted so much to cry
But Ghosts can not release their tears until they reach the skies.
Submitted: January 30, 2021
© Copyright 2021 christine sinnott. All rights reserved.
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hullabaloo22
Wow. This was a very emotional piece of poetry, haunting in its content and very well composed.
Sun, January 31st, 2021 6:31pm