Poems · writing

Apparition

I think of things that scare me

Sometimes in the dark of night

A scratching at the window

Is all it takes to switch on the light.

I creep around, keeping watch,

Making sure every bolt is safely locked.

I know it’s a silly notion,

Living on the third floor,

But

Sometimes still I imagine a shape,

Silhouetted beyond the balcony door.