Thirty years absence from house upon hill
Dead oak tree opens arms to embrace me
Eventide sun gives no respite from chill
Brass knocker in hand?, ‘t is soon I shall be
Low moaning, sad groaning I stand immersed
Broken shutters are eyelids crimson red
Defaced door self opens…a place now cursed!
The walls now skeletal, a house now dead
I mount creaking staircase…come to black hall
The scene of my crime, those many years past
Specter looms smiling amidst ebon pall
A beckoning finger…I stand aghast
If ever one needed…help of a friend
Please come along…I must murder…again
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