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WRITERSCIRCLE.NET

ghost!
frances anne nixon

They shrieked, they screamed, and caused a stir, as out of dark it came,
A spectre white, and shimmering bright, into the crowded room.
“Mum!”  cried One, “Dad!” called Two and “Ghost!” yelled Four and Five,
“A ghost in our room, tell it to go, this bright and awful thing!”

“We want to see no more of you!” the siblings shrieked and hollered.
“We want our Mum.” “We want our Dad.”  “We want you gone forever!”
In the gloom the shimmering stood, it called out loud and clear,
“You took my cake and drank the juice, for that you all must pay!”
 
“Oh no,” said One, “it was not me!” “Oh yes it was,” said ghost.
“It wasn’t me.” said sibling Four. “It was brother number Two!”
Tempers frayed and argument boomed, and pleas turned into tears,
Then bedroom door flew open wide and peace stepped in the room.
 
Mother stood in doorway light, her frustration very clear,
While Father from behind her called, his voice still full of sleep,
“Why in your beds you are not found is confusing and annoying.”
“This awful din must cease right now, soon it will be morning.”
 
Saying thus, he pulled the white from ghostly spectre cruel, and
There shamefaced, a little afraid, stood sibling number Three
“Out!” he cried, “We’ve had enough of your jinks and loud debate.”
“To bed or else your special treats reviewed will surely be!”
 
“Please no!” the brothers called, united one and all, “Don`t be cruel,”
 “We will be good, we`ll go to sleep,” and “It was trick of number Three
“The noise must end, away to bed!” frustrated Father responded.”    
“Tomorrow when I`ve had my rest I`ll deal with mischief maker.”
 
So back to bed in their own rooms they hurriedly repaired,
But not before they muttered, “Rat,”  to brother number Three.
Vengeful thoughts in minds did dwell till silent night took hold,
The scheming plans grew ever dim, sleep claiming one and all.
 
When all the rooms were quiet and still, the parents they did call.
They tucked boys in, and turned lights off, and with a gentle smile,
They kissed a cheek of precious sons, marvels to observe,
Sleep had traded the pesky ones, for darling little cherubs!     
 
 
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