myrandompoems

The doors are creaky

The floorboards are squeaky

The bats are flapping their wings

The willow outside

Is shouting in its loudest voice

Please help this poor soul

The wind blows in cold

And the writing is bold

Saying, please get me out

The doors all fly open

The lights all shut off

And a dark figure walks in

The storm gets even louder

And the thunder starts clapping

In praise for the dark figures deed

In the morning I am awaken

Terrified when I see

The writing in bold

The doors are open

Letting in air that is cold

And the muddy tracks of the big heavy boots!