Posted in Poetry

Ghost House

– Baleful Basilisk

Middle of December, a chilly night!
As she slowly waded in a numbing tide
Ever so…quietly, her tombstone fell
A grave sealed had slid open
With no subtle foreboding,nor yell.

The corpse, it was standing there
Right in front of her brown careless eyes
Almost about to break in a pretty smile!
As the people gyrated in a fete of amusement
His bloodshot eyes swept into hers.

His lips curved with her incomplete smile
Dripping with a stench of hellish intention
As the people flew by, in bubbles
Vibrating with merry,sweet prattle
She stood hoping for a hallucination.

Escape then! And her river was back
As she took a step forward
His corpse shifted to the back
Almost graceful, in some unknown rhythm
Lurking in the shadows,to appear unbidden.