Visitation (Poetry)

All alone in the house on a damp New Year’s Eve
just the wind’s fretful whine in the neighbouring trees
the moon slanting in through a gap in the blind
and unsettling thoughts that encourage the mind
to imagine somebody or something draws near
as a sudden deep chill sends a ripple of fear
to heighten the senses — ears pick up the crack
of a twig in the driveway where shadows loom black

The wind plays a high note and changes its tune
thick clouds scurry in — hide the face of the moon
there are footsteps outside — then a knock on the door
and the heart hammers harder than ever before
the scene’s a B-movie — a cheap Gothic dream
tricks of light really not quite what they seem
yet provoking a shudder — an impromptu gasp
as breath jags the throat and exhales with a rasp

Then an indistinct figure appears in the hall
and the temperature plummets — like ice wall to wall
a body so ancient it has that corpse look
in one hand a pen, in the other a book
that worn face turns familiar, expression now sly
with an odd vaguely threatening glint in its eye
“I’m the ghost from your future — heed well what you see
for the way that I am you are fated to be ...”

With that it is gone — just an echo remains
while doubt taunts the reason and common sense wanes
a mile off down the valley the church clock chimes clear
the twelve strokes of midnight, the spirit lurks near
as the calendar changes — the old year rolls by
the laugh is uncertain and half wants to cry
for all that is hopeful the faithful will pray
as the minutes tick on ...
                                on one more New Year’s Day