This poem was written by me about 25 years ago for my god-daughter’s school project. It holds fond memories for us, and now her own three girls.
Dare you read it all alone.
I think there’s something moving, over by that chair
But when I take a closer look it seems there’s nothing there
Look something shot across the room, that gave me such a fright
I hate being at home alone, especially at night
And now there’s something creaking, it’s the bedroom door
Oh I really hate this house, I’m not staying anymore
I know that i’m just nervous, but the thing I hate the most
Is, I shouldn’t be so frightened, ‘cos I’m the bloomin’ ghost.