Alone at night in the oldest parts of this
Centuries old farmhouse.
          At times the hairs on my arms stand up.
          Goosebumps, no...moosebumps as they pass
As only slightly more than shadows.

A part of me could produce bricks.
But I speak.
          Come out; it's fine. Sit down with me
            Tell me stories from yesterlife.
First hand history lessons. I've seen the faded photos, now
Describe it in colour.

I want scents and sounds, give me secrets in detail.
Come sit with me, hang with me. Please.
             Works every time.
             Nobody likes a ****-up.