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The Nightly Visitor

written by: Stanley W. Shura


Behold the wall, cracked and foreboding.
What's behind, I am unknowing.
In front, there is an ember glowing,
and a shaking shadow seems to breathe.
I stare and contemplate the dancer,
wishing for some light or chance for
getting any kind of answer
as to why I witness what I don't believe.

The shadow tangos here and there,
and spots are flying everywhere.
I feign a calmness as I stare
into hypnotic realms I once dismissed.
I dared, once, call it mirage
when I spied spirits looming large
I shouted "I'm alive! I am in charge!
You're fake!" and boy, I tell you, they were pissed!

They howled and moaned - a ghostly choir.
While resolute, I still perspired,
and yes, I quaked amidst the mire -
a paradox I still today don't comprehend.
Am I possessed by friend or foe?
Will I survive this? I don't know.
Can I believe my eyes? Yes! NO!
And now I just wish, good or bad, that this would end.

The wall's crack becomes a ghastly sneer,
and I feel doom loom ever near.
The spark's dim light fills me with fear
as through the window, dawn begins to play.
Insomniatic, tired and cold,
I now resent this game grown old.
This wretched night had been foretold,
but I survived to sleep another day!

Stanley W. Shura

Stanley W. Shura

I am a mid-forties retail worker and former paraprofessional of 16 years. I teach piano privately and have done so since my college days studying music.

Writing has been an outlet and a salvation of mine since childhood. Thanks to some supportive and encouraging teachers, particularly in high school, I gained confidence and discovered I had a lot to say and the means to say it.
Stanley W. Shura

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