Ghost House - Poem by Angela Wybrow
Our old house, it was owned by the Army,
And I think that folk thought we were barmy,
When we told them all about a strange sight,
Which had appeared to me in the dead of night.
A small boy had been stood at the foot of my bed
(At first, I had thought it was all in my head) ,
But night after night, he came again and again,
And, like the nose on my face, the vision was plain.
I would go wake my parents and burst into tears;
They both tried their best to allay my fears.
We did some research and what we then found
Was that the boy, named Kevin, had sadly drowned.
Maybe Kevin was lonely and wished for a friend –
But, personally, I couldn’t wait for it all to end.
This spooky experience happened when I was four,
And I have to admit to being shaken to the core.
An exorcism ceremony was performed by a priest,
But the ghostly apparitions still did not cease.
We came to the decision that we’d had enough,
And so into boxes we packed up our stuff.
Although what I had seen could not be proved,
Feeling uncomfortable, we decided to move.
Another Army family reside there today,
But Kevin, the ghost boy, decided to stay.
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