Late at night
I watch from my window
I wait
oh so silently
for the footsteps on
old wooden boards
light
a creak
slight
beneath
stockinged feet
stop outside my door
my breath
catches in my throat
exhaling softly
a creak once more
slight
and they continue
dare I dream
they come back
dare I wonder
what would happen
should my door open
the ghost in the hall
standing there
lost
stories told
wandering
lonely
who it is
what does it search
yearn for
want
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