Wonderance written by Ken Allan Dronsfield at Spillwords.com



written by: Ken Allan Dronsfield



Why do I stare at that dark man

he’s back in those black, dreary shadows

down those thirteen steps, into the cellar.

I see his eyes, a chalky yellow, staring, glaring;

his teeth crooked and stained, glistening.

He fades in and out, like an old TV signal

I see him there, with his acrimonious grin.

Always on Sunday’s, before our big family meal,

sneaking to the basement, peaking at the corner

he’s there, he’s always there, always staring,

always glaring, forever daring; come closer boy.

But no, no, no, I won’t, I cannot as I have neither

the strength of heart nor pious virtue to oblige.

So it’s a game of wonderance, I go to the cellar;

watch the dark man staring back at me, glaring,

beckoning, “come closer”. All Hallow’s eve is

but a week away, should I go, no never! But,

then again, perhaps, just a little closer??

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