Pale rays of light from the full moon outside,
Shone through the holes in the door,
And lighted up the hallway,
And patches of the floor.
Dust lay thick on the staircase,
And not a sound could I hear,
No gust of wind blew that candle out,
When Bailey's ghost did appear.
He stood erect in the middle of the hall,
Holding an axe in his hand,
And all those tales I'd heard before,
Came back again and again.
His hair was red and shone like fire,
His eyes were just a hole,
His clothes were old and I saw through them,
A ghost without a soul.
A clock that had died many years ago,
Struck twelve eerie notes in the night,
And the ghostly hand raised the axe,
As the hall became full of light.
I cannot recall how I found the door,
Or for how many miles I fled,
I only rememeber that axe raised high,
Ready to fall on my head.
Now no one lives in the Bailey house,
No caller will knock on the door,
It stands alone, a shut up place,
And I won't go there no more.
copyright Eveline Maedel - all rights reserved * o
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