Had it been a nightmare? The Foureyed Poet.
Was that a knock on the bedroom door
in fact two he was sure
a chill ran through his body instantly
sitting up in bed instinctively
not a believer in spirits or any god
thinking he was a silly old sod!
Staring at his own white-painted door
he placed bare feet on floor
putting dressing gown on feeling cold
moving forward rather bold
in the dim light did the handle turn
the stomach acid began to burn!
This was daft for the first time afraid
wishing in his bed he had stayed
with a deep breath thrust open the door
in the dark a shadow he saw
it vanished with no sound being heard
then noises in the kitchen stirred!
Turning every light on he could reach
there came a high-pitched screech
yet still nothing was at all visible to him
now the mood was getting grim
as he stood shocked in…
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