The old man came in the wintertime,
The mist was cold and grey,
She thought he’d been in a distant time
But then he went away.
She only caught but a fleeting glimpse
Through the hedgerow to the street,
But felt a chill as the memory spilled
From her head down to her feet.

He wore a common fedora hat
And a houndstooth overcoat,
The collar was turned up high, so she
Saw neither cheek, nor throat,
But just for a moment, as he turned
And beneath the brim of his hat,
She caught a glimpse of his piercing eyes
And his eyes were dull, and black.

She told her brother about the man
And she tried to laugh it off,
She said it gave her a sudden fright
And she thought that he would scoff.
Her brother turned with a furrowed brow
And his face was white as sin,
‘If ever he comes to your door, you know
You never must let him in.’

‘What do you know about this man?’
She cried, in a sudden fit,
‘I only mentioned his passing, so
That you’d scoff, make light of it!’
A chill ran down to her fingertips
And tightness grew at her throat,
‘Be sure to lock all your windows
And the door, please draw the bolt.’

He stood there facing the window, and
He stared long out at the lawn,
No matter how much she pressed him, he
Was firm, would not be drawn.
‘There’s no point letting the nightmares in
That will make you feel aghast,
The man you’ve seen is a walking sin
That we left behind in the past.’

She’d always trusted her brother John
Who was older, solemn, grey,
He’d always tried to protect her from
What hurtful people say,
Their mother had died, with her a child
While he was just sixteen,
They’d moved away to the countryside,
Had avoided kith and kin.

But John was working away at night
So it left her on her own,
Huddling over the fireplace
In their quaint and rustic home.
The mist swirled over the window panes
When she saw the face peer in,
And tap at last on the frosted glass
As he called out, ‘Carolyn!’

‘Carolyn, won’t you hear me now
I have such a tale to tell,’
She stared back into the dull black eyes
Of a soul who’d been through hell.
She shook her head and she bit her hand
And she waved the man away,
‘I need to talk to you, Carolyn,
Please hear what I have to say.’

She edged on up to the window
And she whispered, ‘Please to go!
You know that you have me terrified
But for what, I just don’t know.’
‘They put me away for twenty years,
In jail, for killing my wife,
That woman you called your Momma, girl,
They sent me down for life!’

Carolyn shrieked, and held her ears
From the face in the frosted pane,
And distant memories flooded back
From her childhood, once again,
She saw them dragging her father off
But they never brought him home,
And John had gone to the funeral
Of their mother, all alone.

‘They said I poisoned your mother,’ cried
The voice through the frosted glass,
‘I swear, my girl, that it wasn’t me
But your brother John, alas.
I turned my back when your brother poured
That powder into her tea…’
Then Carolyn sobbed, and choked, and said,
‘Please God. No! That was me!’

David Lewis Paget