Poetry – The Visitor

Late at night alone in her home
Mary-Anne was preparing for bed
When Suddenly a knocking upon her door
Startled her for it was a quarter till four

She peered through the peephole confused at first
For the person who knocked could not be seen nor heard
She shrugged it off and laid down to bed
When the sound of footsteps began to play in her head

She sat up straight wide eyed and still
And tiptoed to her door without a spill
As she laid her ear upon the door
A dragging sound could be heard along the floor

Upon inspection everything appeared to be fine
For the stranger had vanished without a sign

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