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Ghostly Poetry
Haunted House
by: Randy Stockton (C) 2004

Night winds blow across the land as people
are fast asleep

There are things that walk these lonely halls in
the dark so deep

Ghosts and their like are starting to stir
their footfalls I can hear

I catch a glimpse of their phantom forms
so I know they're near

A chilling shiver runs down my spine as
I stay quiet as a mouse

Oh why,Oh why must I live here within
this haunted house