There's Something in my Wall
By Tracy Farr
I find it hard to sleep in my own bed,
For scratching sounds I hear inside my wall.
“I think it’s just a mouse,” my daddy said.
But I think not, it’s not a mouse at all.
It’s probably the ghost of some poor boy
Who died one night alone in this same room.
His parents were not sad, but overjoyed,
And chose to make the wall his final tomb.
And now he scratches softly through the night,
Forever searching for eternal rest.
I hide my eyes beneath the sheets in fright,
My heart is pounding, pounding in my chest.
I hope my daddy’s right, it’s just a mouse.
If not, I'm living in a haunted house.