Listening in the dark
Is in itself a worrisome thing
Noises made by an old house
Under siege by the wind
Or being lashed at by the rain
Can send icy chills up ones spine
Like tiny beasts scurrying across the moor
The door creaking open when
You're absolutely sure you shut it
Caused by the settling of the floor
Murmurs and whispers that may or may not
Be a light breeze brushing over leaves
Or the flapping of a night bird's wings
It can be an awful long wait
Alone there in the dark
Listening
While trying to fall back asleep
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