P.S.Clinen

Once a humid summer morn,
When the clock hand swung to slice through four,
I rose from rest at three and three quarter
Thirsting for a simple glass of water.

Cooling water and cold steel tap,
I prepare to return and continue my nap.
When before me a sudden horrible fright –
A ghastly girl in flowing white.

Bolt upright I shoot, it was but a dream.
The woman doesn’t exist, it would seem.
Awake I am now, robbed of my sleep,
From my window I hear a woman weep.

The howls of the woman continue some more,
Curled up in my bed, I try to ignore.
Then hoping compassion would beat fear and foe,
Bravely I peered out of my window.

Silence. No more but the darkness of night,
My heart unsettled by eldritch quiet.
Courage building, out the window I lean,
But the woman and her cries are nowhere to be seen.

I try to sleep again but my eyes burn,
And soon the woman and her cries return.
Haunted and scared I pray for the morn,
But the woman was there until the dawn.

– 2009