You’re different, my dear – you have a gift.
While others just turn their head,
You lie awake, frozen at night,
afraid to leave your bed.
I try not to scare you, but please remember,
I only get a short time
to roam the halls, the rooms, the house
– all of it used to be mine.
Lurking, lifting, tearing, sifting…
making myself at home.
I’ve heard you wish so many times
that you were all alone.
But I won’t leave you, not now, I can’t.
You’re mine and I am yours.
I’ll always be here, watching, waiting,
hiding behind these doors.
We can live here, both you and I,
as peaceful as can be.
As long as you can understand
that the house is mine at three.
It’s always dark – so go to bed.
No need to sit up – it’s late.
I’ll be here hiding again, my dear,
before the dawn can break.
(c) 2019, Abbie Richey Butler
Image by SuperHerftigGeneral on Pixabay