Monday, March 26, 2012

Eight Hundred Forty One Dancing Shadows

Troll thumping in the attic, keep a steady beat.
The man within the shadow sees.
Creaky corner; whickered chair
He’d like to say hello.
Residents come; residents go.
But the man inside the shadow knows.
There’s no need to worry;
He greets the morning sun.
You’ll never be alone.
Grumpy old Rutland;
Land of the rotten;
Oh land of rut.
You are truly special,
Spooks, crooks and all
I never found his story
Just his lingered soul.
So long, farewell decrepit home.

- AS -