The Stranger in the Night
She wakens in the still of night
In need of much more sleep
The room is dark & quiet
But for a faint glow by her feet
She sits up very slowly
And rubs her eyes to see
She thinks she must be dreaming
'However can this be? '
Now she sees her very clearly
A young woman dressed in white
With long dark hair & skin so fair
This stranger in the night
She sits in bed quite calmly
And does not speak a word
For she feels no fear or danger
Of this she is assured
She begins to speak quite softly
Asking 'Where has she come from? '
The stranger looks bewildered
Saying 'From where did you come? '
This is my home she answers
'Oh no this cannot be! '
The stranger says with kindness
'This home belongs to me.'
The stranger takes her by the hand
And pulls her from the bed
'It's time that you cross over.
I'm sorry but you're dead.'
'Oh no I am not dead! ' she says
As she walks right through the wall
The stranger in the night it seems
Was not a stranger after all.
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Comments about this poem (The Stranger in the Night by Rebecca Parker )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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