A gentle breeze whistles
Through the keyhole
A silence fills the room
Darkness like a velvet mole
Wafts over the still.
She comes carefully to me
Martha, from the past.
A woman of iron, strong will
and fury but silent.
A bad, evil stench fills the air
Rotting cobwebs shake in the mist
A bone, arthritic like a stick
Mishapen like her soul
Points at me, then fades
I laugh, shout "don't flatter yourself"
"You are no lady, be gone foul player,
Cat had your tongue, spat it out"
I laugh,  she reappears with tears
Begs forgiveness, her soul, the decayer
the torch with a thousand candles
hits her eyes, announcing her fears
Tears well in the socket of a misplaced ball
of juicy *******.  Be gone, be gone and she was.
Martha, a joker, a sick woman now rest in peace.