Cherrytree House

A Halloween-type of poem, about the ideal haunted house.

Cherrytree House

Have you heard the stories
about the old Cherrytree house?
People say spooks and ghouls roam
the manor grounds at night
Howling and wailing their cries of anguish
Terrorizing those who dare to come near
Yes, that tall, ancient creaky house
with its shattered windows and bent shutters
The broken porch swing hanging off one chain
Its grass long since become a jungle
of overgrown weeds and dead, brown flowers
Those shrieking black gates trying
to break free of their rusted iron keeper
Old Cherrytree’s caretaker still lives there, you see
Guarding that place like a guard in a prison
They say he loves to wander the streets
late at night, looking for little children to
feed to the monsters hiding in the dark basement
Horrible monsters with glowing yellow eyes and sharp wicked teeth,
Their claws reaching out to grasp you...
And you know what he says
before he captures them?
“I am going to get you, little girl, so you better
not hide! I have just one thing to say to you......
BOO!”