Write Night at WOW

Tonight is the nearest to Halloween that the WOW evening gets so it is officially the Halloween meeting. WOW is short for, 'World of Words' and roughly once per month there is a gathering
of people who get together on one of these 'Write Nights'. The evenings are the brainchild of the  charming, enthusiastic and very bubbly Melody Bridges. Melody works her socks off to encourage anybody who fancies themselves with a pen in their hand or indeed a computer, to hand.

A little while ago I ran a few of my poems past Melody in an email message for (sort of) approval for me to read on this occasion. She responded with a short message asking if I had anything suitable for Halloween. This poem is a true story and to put you in the picture, it is my version of the favourite scary movie line................................

 'I SEE DEAD PEOPLE'.

Witnesses to this haunting and mentioned in this story are: Bill Luckin, Rosie Luckin, Bernard Harris, myself, my husband Steve and my lovely daughter Jacqueline Rackham. The first three people named here are dead.

Jean

 

Quite early on in our relationship

Something less than a year in fact

We shared an interrelationship

That called for a degree of tact 

My husband had not said a word

‘Til one night sitting side by side

Stroking the cat while he purred

I said something I couldn’t hide 

“Ever feel that we are not alone”?

I’d wanted to say it for a while

Over time the thought had grown

He turned to me with a knowing smile 

He puffed through his cheeks a bit

“I thought it was just me”, he sighed

“You’ve seen her”? Eyebrows a-knit

“Thank heavens for that” he cried 

“Where did you see her, and when”?

“At the top of the stairs at first”, I said

“In the hall, and the front bedroom then,

She doesn’t seem to know she is dead” 

We talked about her in total calm

No fear at all by either of us felt

She did not want to do us any harm

Dazed as to what the past had dealt 

We went to visit the previous owner

He called his wife to say we were there

To see if she knew our mystery loner

Hand to her mouth then the back of her hair 

We described the woman we had seen

Looks went back and forth at each other

“I have to say that it sounds like Jean”

That would be Bill’s poor dead mother 

Photo albums all brought to the table

Silence fell as Rosie rummaged through

This time it was we who were not able

To hide feelings, it was the woman we knew 

We came home with an old photograph

Of Jean dressed just as we saw her

Placed in a sturdy frame, her epitaph 

On its final position we did then concur 

We said nothing to anybody else at all

Then my daughter went up to bed one night

Rushing back in, hands against the wall

“A lady on the stairs gave me such a fright” 

The teenager looked at us both and knew

That we knew, that much she quickly saw

What she had seen was completely true

Her outburst loud as she laid down the law 

We should have warned her, a ghost was here

She slowly calmed down and asked at last

“Why aren’t you scared, do you have no fear”?

From one to the other her eyes were cast 

We knew not why Jean was still in our home

And likewise she knew not why we were

She didn’t speak but continued to roam

We stopped in our tracks at a look from her 

A friend house-sat once when we were away

And on our return he gave us a warning

“There’s a ghost in this house, don’t say nay,

Dressed in black as if she is in mourning” 

The only physical thing that ever occurred

Just a little adjustment from time to time

The photo was faced down without a word

No special reason, no comment, no rhyme 

She never bothered or worried us at all

We lived there for years without dread

But suddenly she went away as we recall

Then we heard that her only son was dead 

She was waiting for him or so it seemed

The thought I had firm set in my mind

Her journey to heaven delayed she’d deemed

Not to leave her beloved son William behind