The Watcher

The Watcher PhotoOnce upon a restless night,
Upon my weary eyes;
The yellow moon was hid from sight,
Blackening the skies.
A strange wind stirred within the trees,
Which clawed at the window pane.
I could not rest so ill at ease,
I could not my fear restrain.
The light of a single candle’s flame
Flickered as if a threat-
To leave me here for the darkness to claim,
To a fate I will soon regret.
I crept across the cold, wooden floor.
With trembling hands, the lamp was lit.
Through the narrow gap of the open door,
Shone a glint in the eye of it.
In my throat, my terror caught-
I could not even manage a rasp.
In my own defense, I could do naught
To escape its wicked grasp.
I stumbled backward, and as I fell,
Landing upon my bed,
I found myself waking from this hell,
Which had all been in my head.
A rhythmic screeching against the glass,
The pounding of my heart,
A candlestick of cold, hard brass
Upon my bedside cart.
I drew in deep a breath of air,
Exhaled in great relief.
Nothing really had been there,
To cause my mind such grief.
Reaching for a match for my candle to light,
I suddenly hesitated-
“Will this nightmare appear within my sight?”
I briefly contemplated.
“I will think of this no more,”
I resolved, but look I did not dare-
For I could feel right through the door
Its piercing, silent stare.

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