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Others

In deepest Night,

when all are asleep

is when they come,

up the flight

of shadow-stair

silent and fleet

Cloaked in black,

Quiet as the breath

of a slumbering child,

Down the Hall,

soundlessly gliding

Quietly

into the bed-chambers

of my family

And there they stand,

not breathing, sensationless

Diabolic yet infinitely patient

standing

staring from shadowed faces

no eyes but still they are watching,

in Deepest night

the clock reads three

I am awake, eyes squeezed

Shut

but

I know there is one standing,

and its

Looking

at me.

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About marcofreschi

I live in the Ocean and write poetry View all posts by marcofreschi

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