The yawn of an opening door,
the creak on the stairs
of someone unseen descending there.
They are the classic opening
to a ghostly tale of a haunted house
where spirits dwell down a leafy lonely lane.
Now that is in the movies or a paperback novel.
However, when we see a place that resembles that
a cold chill goes through us as if it is real.
In reality, haunted buildings
are just ordinary ones we see.
The ones you wouldn’t expect to be haunted at all.
23 July 2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem