Ghosts

And for Halloween just gone, a Saturday poem to reflect that spooky mood:

Ghosts
 
Do you hear the whispers in the night?
Soft murmurings, like something said
See the fleeting shadow, pale and white?
Or do you close your eyes so tight in bed?
 
Was that a floor board's creaking sound?
I don't know. And nor, I think, do you.
A ghost in the next room, moving around
Noisy, searching for some forgotten clue
 
A creaking of the window pane brings fear
And a tap-tap-tap on the glass, what's that?
Something is coming, coming ever near
And I don't think I own a dark black cat
 
Ghosts of the mind, opening a twilight zone
Haunting us, as we hear them jibber, moan