The Haunted House: A poem by Sudha Pillai

Drifting mist, the sighing wind, a falling leaf,
Trees – stood in silence, for the dying year,
Our car had halted, a change of tyre,
My eyes stared – in sheer disbelief.

It was a house, old…ramshackled,
Windows fastened, glass panes broken,
I knocked on the door, past thorn and bramble,
It creaked – then, mysteriously turned open.

I spied a stairway…old chandeliers…
I entered…a cat mewed, disappeared,
I was drawn towards the upper wing,
I climbed up – reached the landing. 

Onward, upward, the old attic beckoned,
A piano stood …I paused a second,
The trunk, I saw – lifted the lid,
Shrieked – as a fair limb slid.

Music I heard, wings brushed past my hair,
Heart in my mouth, I raced down the stair,
I reached my car, trembling in sheer fright,
I fainted – the driver was a ghost in white.