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Oct 2017
A circle of friends met,
On a cold October night.
Seated around a wooden table,
Holding hands by candle light.
Who dared to call the spirits?
An invitation to the dead.
So cold the glass,
That spells out words,
Ungodly message read.
Like ice a chill descended,
Cold enough to freeze the soul,
A spectre came among.
This group of searching people,
All wanting to belong.
Selecting only by random finger,
The weakest or the slight.
Cruel trick, or fairly treated,
On a cold October night.
Philip Warwick
Written by
Philip Warwick  70/M/Berkshire
   Abraham Esang and Imran Islam
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