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A visitor arrives in the dead of night. |
The Visitor As I was laying upon my bed A strange tapping sound entered my head Turning left to face the clock I heard the sound of a turning lock It chilled my bones and then my heart I sat right up, as quick as a dart Then stepping calmly to the floor I slowly made toward the door Looking through the small spy hole The night outside looked as black as coal Perhaps I imagined it, my brain said As I turned back towards my bed But I had not got far across the room When the sound of footsteps came from gloom Racing back to my door with fright I did see such a terrible sight For outside through the dark of night I saw a small a-glowing light There appeared upon the path A man holding a wooden staff I swear I had not seen his face before So why was he tapping at my door ‘Sir’ I called ‘are you ok’ He did not answer, but started to fade away Slowly to the handle my hand did move For there was something I needed to prove That what I saw was not a trick of the mind That my eyes could see true and I was not blind Turning the lock I pulled back the door I looked out into the lamp lit floor There in front of me the apparition had gone Where did he go? Could I have been wrong? I stepped a bit further, as I felt bold And all I felt was the night, deathly cold I heard a noise and quickly turned to see The door slam soundly behind me I must admit I was full of dread I did so long for my nice warm bed But now I was at the mercy of the night I could feel my muscles pulling tight I slammed myself in to my door And out of breath fell to the floor Then as I looked up and what I saw Was the man standing over me once before He did not utter a single sound I felt so weak lying on the ground He slowly drew up his staff to the sky I prepared my self to certainly die And closing my eyes expecting to be dead I awoke suddenly back in my bed What I saw that night I do not know But this all happened long ago Now every night I look to see If the old man has come back for me. |