The Haunted House Visit

The house is all broken down;
Its shutters are falling away.
The windows are cracked or broken;
In the wind, the house does sway.

You walk up the broken sidewalk;
And stand before the huge, wooden door.
You open it ever so gently;
And start to walk across the floor.

You have to push the cobwebs aside;
And before you, lays a long, darkened hall.
Lining the old hall, are broken statues;
Old ceiling fixtures, are beginning to fall.

Outside, the cold wind is howling;
Like a lonesome wolf, baying at the moon.
Suddenly you're in front of another door;
Where does it lead, into what room?

You reach for the doorknob, and turn it;
The door creaks open, barely on its hinges.
There before you lies a darkened bedroom;
You smell the musty air, your body cringes.

There is no light, but that from the moon;
Peeking in through a tattered shade.
Just enough light passes through it;
As you gaze upon a four-poster, unmade.

The house seems to have a mind of its own;
Eyes seem to follow you everywhere.
You know that you entered the house alone;
Yet, you feel that a presence is there.

Suddenly, there's footsteps, coming down the hall;
Approaching the bedroom where you are.
They're gradually getting closer and closer;
Your rapid heartbeat says, they aren't very far.

You can't go back through the open door;
You don't know who, or what's in the hall.
You make your way to the broken window;
As you climb out, you stumble and fall.

You jump to your feet, and begin to run;
Stumbling around, under a sky of black hue.
You stop a second, to take a look back;
To see two eyes, looking back at you.

You turn and keep running, as far as you can;
You can't stop, even though you're out of breath.
Whatever was inside that deserted old house;
Reeked from the smell of decay, and death.

You never go back, to that house on the hill;
Never again, on a Halloween night.
For the legend says, that if anyone does;
They will meet their fate, from sheer fright.

© Betty Hawkins
(All Rights Reserved)