I walked in to my daughter bedroom,
feeling a shudder I never thought twice.
It was an old house OK to me over 30 years
was moving it on. I had lived in homes from
the 70's now they had character.

As in we were sitting in the sitting room
and the steps of a child running briskly
down the stairs would make us mute what
was descending in volume as well as
what could be heard but the problem was...

No one had lived in the adjacent house not a
soul had stepped foot in those unfulfilled spaces.
Yet in the echoes of silent nights there were steps
on descending moments not of ours or there's.

That was in my youth forgotten images faded until
my young were born, now once again the footsteps
have followed. Things fall from ascending heights,
yet on further expectation nothing has fallen but thought.

And I wonder to what end is this becoming, as I'm
writing this and feel something watching in the
darkness as a shiver reverberates through me as I finish...