Night Terror

There's nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light.

Night Terror

Old buildings creak, they shift and squeak,
I beg myself believe.
Faint tics and talks, like distant clocks,
may echo through the eave.

A stray cat yowl, a furtive owl,
or specter from the gloom?
A moaning wind comes seeping in,
to whisper words of doom.

Soft footsteps pass the fragile glass
that keeps the night outside.
A prowling thief or rustling leaf?
I freeze with pupils wide.

Some random raps, then furtive taps,
the squeal of unoiled hinge.
Capricious sounds beyond the grounds,
or someone breaking in?

The swirling breeze makes swaying trees
cast flickers through the blind.
Stray shards of light that slice the night
inflame my fevered mind.

A shadow sighs, fine hairs arise
in clammy neckline crawl.
A face arcane or random stain,
what haunts the side-lit wall?

Then anxious start with pounding heart,
tingling gooseflesh quivers.
I cringe in bed from nameless dread,
'til blessed dawn delivers.

Author's note: ▶︎

Entered in the May 2024 round of:

FORUM

Poetic Traditions Poetry Contest   (E) A Contest for Metrical Rhyming Poetry. #2055137 by Brenpoet

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