No Visiting Rites (Poetry)

I’m checking out of this hotel
it’s too haunted for the rent
a ghastly vision came last night
no clue why it was sent

It scared the living daylights
with its medieval tone
the spectre looming ominous
chilled to the very bone

The message rumbled round the room
I’m baffled what it said
it spoke in tongues forgotten
in a language long-since dead

But I took it as a warning —
like the scorch marks on the floor
none too subtle with its signing
plus a handprint on my door

So I’ve packed my bags this morning
and paid up the monies due
left the past’s grim ghost behind me
I am off to pastures new

Seeking a safe roof for shelter
with a modest hope of peace —
some secluded kind of future
where such visitations cease