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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=363660" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old House</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The candle flame flickers from a draft <br>on a dark and stormy night, <br>the floorboards creak with every step <br>as I move about the old house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is a chill in the air, <br>that seems to be everywhere, <br>and the clock’s tick sounds louder <br>as time passes hour to hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the thunder rumble in the night <br>and see lightning illuminate the sky <br>and I stop and listen intently <br>to the yawns and groans that echo in my ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old house’s settling graces <br>that are always heard in the quiet of the night. <br>My heart beats against my chest <br>as my imagination begins to fly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I breath in the musty air within the room <br>where I am about to sleep. <br>Everywhere the shadows move <br>under the light of my flickering candle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know the old house is not haunted, <br>but my mind tells me other wise. <br>My imagination creates noises <br>where the dancing shadows fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I gaze about suspiciously <br>knowing that there is nothing there <br>as a branch outside taps my window <br>wanting to come in out of the storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The curtains move from a draft <br>as if something is sheltering behind them. <br>All of which make my mind <br>thinks of ghost stories I have been told.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In bed, I slip under the cover, <br>and then blow the candle out <br>as something gets on the bed <br>resting across my legs for the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My ears detect the slightest sound <br>in the blackness that surrounds me <br>and I am blind to everything <br>on this stormy moonless night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The streaks of dawn break through the window <br>and the terrors of the night have fled. <br>I smile at my imagination <br>as I lay there with the cat upon the bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old house is reputed to be haunted, <br>but take it from one who lives there <br>that the only ghosts are our imagination <br>and on dark and stormy nights it grows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">5 June 2010</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Harris">David Harris</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=363660" data-title="The Old House de David Harris" data-description="The candle flame flickers from a draft 
on a dark and stormy night, 
the floorboards creak with every step 
as I move about the old house.

There is a chill in the air, 
that seems to be everywhere, 
and the clock’s tick sounds louder 
as time p..."></div>
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