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When I lived in New York state,
Way up there…in the Catskills Mountains;
I learned that there are things that happen,
Things you can’t explain.

Picture this… an old farm house,
Set back there…in the foot hills;
That’s when I was only eight years old,
And, to recall it…still gives me chills!

It began one, cold Winter night,
When my sister and I went to bed;
There was no central heating,
So, the blankets went up…over our heads!

We were awoken short hours later,
By the sound of chains being dragged;
Drag…drag… drag – then, a short pause,
Right past our beds…it seemed!

Our eyes grew larger and larger,
It felt like they would pop out of our heads;
Sister was younger than I,
Screaming…she jumped into my bed!

It seemed that the procession moved on,
Heading…right for the attic door;
But, we knew the door was locked,
For we had tried to open it…before!

There was no sleep to be had that night,
We lay there…silently and trembling;
But, at daybreak…up we shot,
Then, down the stairs…we went scrambling!

What a tale we had to tell,
To our Mom and to our Dad;
Did they believe our story?
I’m not so sure…that they had.

But, as soon as we had eaten,
They had the key…unlocked the door,
And, we were there…inside the attic!

With eyes as large as saucers,
Sister and I…looked all around;
Boxes were piled high and old trunks,
A spinning wheel and old clothes were found.

No, not a single one…in sight;
But, what was it that gave us such a scare,
On that cold, Winter night?

Now, Mom & Dad didn’t believe us,
They thought we made it all up;
But, sister and I were certain,
For, we had heard the chains…close-up!

Just as we were leaving,
The attic door…was nearly closed;
I saw a ragged old curtain move,
And, my goodness…what it exposed!

To this day…I am certain,
That I saw a bony leg uncovered;
A skeleton for sure…all bone,
And, I ran out…like a coward!

A child’s imagination?
I think not…for until this day;
I believe there was a GHOST IN THE ATTIC,
And, nobody can make me think…any other way!


June 10, 2004

Aimee Love

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Aimee Love