This Old House

This Old House


Late at night while you’re snuggled in a warm cozy bed,
Your creaky old house will cry out to be fed.
It pops and it cracks, it moans and groans,
and it won’t be happy ‘til it dines on your bones.

Some houses are sturdy, some old, and some new,
“Home Sweet Home” to what’s after you.
From the oak trees outside to the walk made of stone,
Don’t think that your house will just leave you alone.

“I’m hearing things,” at least, that’s what you say,
even while death is but a heartbeat away.
It moves closer now as it creeps into your room.
In the darkness, it scurries and hurries your doom.

Your body is tense, there’s no place to hide,
as you hear heavy breathing right by your side.
You pull up the covers, you cower in fright,
There’s a deathly scream in the middle of the night.

When people pass by and look at the place,
they’ll see your old house with a smile on its face.
In a bundle of blankets left on the floor,
lies the book you were reading and nothing more.