That House on Our Street
The doorway was a toothy maw, the casement was an eye,
and all the children crept in awe each time they must pass by,
regardless what they heard or saw; they knew that they would die
if anything at all should draw them in, no matter why,
For bogeys, fiends and ghastly ghouls inhabited the place,
entrapping and devouring fools, and set on them apace;
those children who had left their schools and homes without a trace
now lay decaying in deep pools as dark as outer space,
Dug in the basement deep below, a catacomb of holes
filled up with youth who’d tried to go into this cage of souls
and found, not fun adventures, no, but rather, evil moles
of spirit-kind hid here–and so, for them the town bell tolls;
Lost children wail twixt yonder walls at night while moonlight creeps,
and roam like mists down endless halls while all around them sleeps;
no knowing parent ever calls again; the mansion keeps
its secrets tight, and silence falls, far as the deepest deeps;
At least, the children’s fears said so; the legend kept in thrall
the children thereabouts, who’d go timidly past it all
at anxious speed along the row, lest they lose their recall
to safety. As grownups all know: life’s scary when you’re small!
Art-Colored Glasses 