A Ghost Story

Stone columns heave under the weight of Time, The door hangs slackly as indifference. The baronial hall an unwelcoming Spectre of dust and silence. As she treads slowly into that chamber of horror. Suddenly a rustling of shadows as the rodent Lords Recall vague memories of danger. The staircase now unfolds from the floor above And step by step she's growing cold With the gradual onset of terror. A piercing scream, a drum-roll of the breaking bones, An icy breeze pervades the room And then resumption of the spectral silence. Did Amy fall or was propelled to doom. The mystery remains as in a broken dream.