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GHOST OF THE PAST

She stood at the foot of a tall steep hill and studied the house at its crest,

The crumbling ruin of a once proud manse looked down on its unwelcome guest.

She thought she heard, as she climbed the hill, a fluttering within the trees,

Was it a sigh from a ghost of the past, or merely a kiss by the breeze?

As she opened the door and stepped into the hall, the house gave a shudder of rage,

Was it anger expressed by a ghost of the past, or the mansion just settling with age?

As her footsteps clicked on the marbled stairs, she heard the sob of a child.

Was it the cry of a ghost of the past, or imagination gone wild?

As she explored the the musty rooms, came a clanking, deliberate and slow.

Was a chain being dragged by a ghost of the past, or a rat in the cellar below?

The rooms were all shadowed and darkened within, but she felt unseen entities near,

It was either the shades of ghosts of the past, or intimidation of fear.

As she made her retreat down the marbled stair, a tormented screaming she heard.

Was it the wail of a ghost of the past, or the screeching of a wild bird?

She fled from the house and ran down the hill, until she had reached safety at last.

As she turned and looked back, that's when she realized, that the HOUSE was the ghost of the past!

Learn more about this author, Shirley Love.
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