Haunted House

[Lincolnshirelass]

A little way outside the town,
still suspect to its throbbing sounds,
it stands alone, unloved, run-down
in over-run and weed-wrapped grounds,
folk say, there's much that is not known,
and myth and mystery surrounds
the empty house upon the hill
and people call it haunted, still.

They call it haunted, and discern
moods that they cannot explain,
shadows that flicker, don't return,
and noises, echoing again,
and, perhaps, inside, they yearn
for tales of ghosts and fear and pain,
a passing frisson-flickered fright
felt in our bones one winter night.

Perhaps the rumours all are true,
something, for sure, is lurking there,
something that someone once knew
hangs, half-hidden in the air,
or, just out of sound and view,
of legends and of disrepair
are the only ones who know -
and laughed and loved here, long ago.

[hazel okonji]

Quite terrific, a passion frission-flickered fright quite my favourite line, its like the road not taken, a haunted house? Not as such an intruging piece this is.