Sometimes

there’s a shadow against the wall

at the end of the hall

near the dining room door.

 

It stands there in the moonlight

it hovers there when the sun comes up

it doesn’t move an inch when when the floor creaks

and the doors in the hall  swing open inch by inch.

 

I watch it like a hawk

I dare it to move

and sometimes I think it’s going to make a run for it

or maybe even scream.

 

The shadow stops and says

as calm as it can,

” Ghosts aren’t real. “

and I say, ” Yes I  am. “