Fright!

There’s a rustle down the garden
Beneath the fallen tree
A movement that is tantamount
To scare the socks off me

A thought that someone’s watching
From yonder gate near stones
A prick of conscious angst perhaps
That chills the blood and bones

Perception or a bad omen
In shadow of the moon
A person lurking, waiting to
Strike out; to hit real soon

A feeling that they’re watching
Just biding time until
They move when least expected
In stealth to make the kill

Whence then a shriek will pierce the air
And freeze you to the spot
The fright; the dread; the hopelessness
Where sweat beads cold not hot

And yet in truth there’s nothing
Less rampant fears in sight
The ramblings of a fractious mind
That spooks you out at night

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