Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2014
There's no ghost.
The house sat on a hill
Old and raged it was.
Some say a ****** took place there.
I open the doors just so I could hear.
But no sounds were here for me.
The windows were divided and the blinds were gone.
The old ***** sat in the corner blood on its keys.
Then a loud noise I did hear, I jumped and turn and I thought I saw a ghost.
I ran for the stairs to look for. Nonetheless, it was behind me.
I saw a light in its eye than I knew it was not a ghost.
I looked to view and it was my dad. Time for bed there's no ghost.
Written by
Harold r Hunt Sr  union sc
(union sc)   
176
   devare
Please log in to view and add comments on poems