At the bottom of the Stairs
They found her in the darkness
at the bottom of the stairs
She had, for some time, lived alone
-three days she had lain there.
Her skin was clammy to the touch,
pulse irregular and weak.
In and out of consciousness
She’d drift, but could not speak.
The nine eleven call was made
And the paramedics. arrived
Hours later we got the call:
Granny Jo had not survived.
I’m staying at her house now
As we sort things out for sale.
I’ve kept busy painting rooms.
and I’ve installed a new hand rail.
Some strange things have been happening;
my cat hissing at unseen specters.
of whom I'm unaware.
a door that opens of itself
a slowly rocking chair.
At night this old house whispers and moans,
Pipes bang and stair treads creak.
Especially on a rainy night
I find it hard to sleep.
Staying here at night alone
There’s one place I won’t go.
I avoid the basement steps.
where Dad found Granny Jo.
Sometime when I pass that door
I hear faint muttering there
Evil waits in the darkness
at the bottom of the stairs….
poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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