Poetic ghost

The lady from within the walls,
Has no need of wooden doors.
Freely roams from room to room,
Poised in silence ready to loom,
With dark intentions to consume,
No other reason I must assume.

Her incessant taping upon the wall,
Terrified, unable to cry out or call,
Was she invited? No! Not at all.
Silence ensures but wait there’s more,
As she appears from within the wall,
Dark as ebony, slender and so tall!

As she glides towards my bed,
Straining to hear what’s being said,
Persistent whispering in my head.
Paralysed, unable to move a leg,
Fear ensued, filled with dread,
Confronted by a living dead.

Breda Ware