behind the door.

night dreams are oft times, not what they seem.

who's there, lurking behind the door?

I hear a scuffling, scratchy sound;

I get up and pace the polished floor,

hoping now... I won't be found.

 

my doorknob turns, first left, then right,

it rattles with an eerie squeak;

I feel a fear, then outward fright,

then, my legs and knees go weak.

 

comes the pounding, hard and fast,

it reverberates with horrid noise;

surely this nightmare will not last,

perhaps it's just some prankish boys.

 

and then the door swings open wide,

but no one's there for me to see;

I'm afraid that I will nearly die,

if this thing, won't let me be.

 

suddenly, my eyes grow bright and big,

on my wall, a photo of a lake;

grunting, open mouth, like a pig,

I snort and then - am wide awake.