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In The Dark p.1

Did I?
Did not I hear...
Something?

I prick my ears about the room:
Searching out the pin that dropped,
As my heart hipped and hopped,
Till my anxious breathing stopped,
And pricked my ears through the muffled gloom.

No, no.
Nothing, I insist.
Nothing here but doors and walls.
No mysterious shades slink through the halls.
No, and no, and no again.
I heard nothing, I insist.

Dare I fake,
And continue my pretentious glamoured sleep,
Or wake?

I burrow deeper into my towered cushions,
As if I might find a peaceful sleep
Among my favorite plumpéd sheep.

Was it?
Or was it not it again....
Something?

My hound-ish ears up spring again,
Upon my nose a phantom stir,
My eyes snapping wide this did incur,
Out of my false rest it managed to lure,
Cursing imaginative ears as my bane.

No, no.
Nothing, I rehearse.
Not a shiver of a painting,
Not some long dead ghost in waiting.
No, and no, and no again.
Nothing for my ears to hear, I rehearse.

Do I dare to peer out,
Beyond the protection of posts and curtains,
To quiet my doubt?

I sit up slowly, barely part my eyes,
As if to hear or see some soft patter of unseen feet,
Outside the haven of my blanket sheet.
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