He knocked on my door,

To show that he is here.

Tall, dark, and frightful.

Morosely laughing,

Provoking sound fear.

Traducing the silence,

Bitter-shrieks of mis’ry,

Not out from within,

But stolen;

Ripped forth out from me.

Sharply he turns back,

Quick, flees out the doorway.

Came in just as he left,

“You can’t ever leave,

Right here you will stay!”

Day ‘vades his exit.

Window-rays torment well.

With uncertainty,

Time laughing,

As tolled: the End Bell!

K. Aldaya, 2/1/05

Picture:  “The Old Wooden Door” by Dan Tucker: http://www.photographybydantucker.com/; http://www.photographybydantucker.com/gallery2.php?ImgCatIDurl=1&ImageID=133&page=4