At last! The final box unpacked<\/p>\n
And all my books are neatly stacked<\/p>\n
Upon the shelf, and over there<\/p>\n
By the window sits my chair<\/p>\n
From which my weary gaze to cast?<\/p>\n
When whiskey soused I rest, at last.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Cold hands shake and ice cubes chink<\/p>\n
Foggy fingers reach and slink<\/p>\n
Across the water, close and low<\/p>\n
Obscuring all that lies below<\/p>\n
And nodding, only half awake<\/p>\n
A whisper and my Cold hands shake.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A sudden chill passes through me<\/p>\n
Reaching blindly fear subdues me<\/p>\n
Light a candle, shadows darken<\/p>\n
Taut and tense, all senses hearken<\/p>\n
Did I hear a wailing shrill?<\/p>\n
Rise and fall, a sudden chill<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The air turns cold, I sit alert<\/p>\n
I hear the swishing of a skirt<\/p>\n
On the dusty floor, what\u2019s this?<\/p>\n
The echo of a lovers kiss?<\/p>\n
A phonograph from days of old<\/p>\n
With scratching tune, the air turns cold<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat say you, wraith? From whence you speak?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ghostly tendrils brush my cheek<\/p>\n
And icy breath, into my ear<\/p>\n
Whispers \u201cyou\u2019re not welcome here\u201d<\/p>\n
I start and shake. This can\u2019t be true.<\/p>\n
Her voice an echo, \u201cwhat say you?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Voice quivering, I reply<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll belong here, by and by.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sense on frozen lips, a smile<\/p>\n
And think of all the time I\u2019ll wile<\/p>\n
In haunted house, then shivering,<\/p>\n
Whimpering, voice a quivering<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I fall down, dead weight, sink<\/p>\n
Into my chair, my eyelids blink<\/p>\n
From my hand my glass falls, shatters<\/p>\n
I drift away from all that matters<\/p>\n
I see my heavy nodding head<\/p>\n
A last breath out, I fall down dead.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
At last, the final box unpacked<\/p>\n
Her kitchen shelves are neatly stacked<\/p>\n
Weariness etched on her face<\/p>\n
The girl who soon will take my place<\/p>\n
Evening is falling fast<\/p>\n
And I will wander free at last.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
At last! The final box unpacked And all my books are neatly stacked Upon the shelf, and over there By the window sits my chair From which my weary gaze to cast? When whiskey soused I rest, at last. Cold hands shake and ice…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":772,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-26244","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26244","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/772"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=26244"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26244\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":26337,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26244\/revisions\/26337"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=26244"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=26244"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=26244"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}