Soft Steps
And who rests up in the attic?
In this house so ancient stands,
amongst its fellows on darkened lane,
weathered, wind beaten, and mildewed from rain.
And why when I rest I hear them so?
Soft steps of children in the dark,
above my head on floorboards creak,
with the soft steps they sag and weep.
Any when did they begin to play?
In this house so ancient stands,
some fifteen years my neighbors say,
the scarlet fever stole the kids lives away.
The Soft Steps by Lurking Fear, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.