Once upon all hallows night, with curtains drawn and doors locked tight,
Sitting by my own small fire, wishing sleep would come once more,
While I sat there tired and waiting, suddenly there came scraping,
As of something gently raking, raking at my own front door,
"Tis but the wind or branch" I mocked, "Scratching at my own front door -
Only this and nothing more."

I seem to distinctly remember, it was the night before first November,
And each and every dying ember, cast its shadows across the floor.
Alone I sat and wondered, "What could make that sound" I pondered.
As lightning struck and clouds thundered, then the rain did start to pour.
And over this the sound grew louder, even though the rain did pour.
Fell that rain for evermore.

And although the storm chose to persist, the sound continued to insist,
That I should soon no more resist, that scratching at my door.
"But who should call on such a night? When n'er a soul should be in sight,
Never mind consider to invite themselves to my front door,
When all alone I am these nights, who should be at my front door?"
And remain there calling evermore.

And so as my mind evolved, for this mystery to be solved,
This insistent query to be resolved, and to find who or what was at my door.
And so as I lingered waiting, even now, still hesitating,
Suddenly the sound of scraping, grew silent outside my door.
No sound of scratching and or raking could be heard outside my door.
Silence now and nothing more.

That door seemed larger in the gloom, and the shadows danced around the room,
For then the rain it also stopped, and the thunder roared no more.
That sudden silence did instil, a morbid dread upon my will,
And so I stood there frozen still, staring at that noiseless door,
Unmoving in my own frozen state, staring at my own front door,
And so I stood there ever more.

Within that silence I heard my clock, and the sound of its Tick Tock,
From its placing in my hall, I did spy its pendulum rise and fall.
And then it chose this eerie time, to start upon its deathly chime,
Each strike did reach into my spine, As I waited for it's final call,
Each note struck deep into my core, As it approached its final call,
As the chime stuck twelve, and then no more.

When that final chime expired, My courage was finally inspired,
So lighting up my last candle, I moved toward that door.
Moving slowly with knees quaking, and my hands they were a shaking,
Then with one final breath in-taking, I reached out slowly for that door,
Reaching slowly for the handle I opened wide my own front door,
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Warily the door I did open wide, and cautiously I did peer outside,
Nothing out there did I find, outside of my front door.
But as I retreated back inside, an unearthly breeze did pass me by,
That made me wish to run and hide, and feel that breeze no more,
For its breath did pass me by, and then did pass no more,
I felt it pass then nothing more.

Nervously I laughed and snickered as the candle waned and flickered,
"Tis but the wind I assure", as I slammed, then locked that door.
I removed the key for my safekeeping, convinced it was my lack of sleeping,
That was the reason I was weeping, As I slid the bolts to make secure,
Then I fitted chain and padlock, to make certain it was secure,
So nothing could get past my door.

Back inside I then did wander, looking for some drink to squander,
For only in that imbibed state, could my fears be then ignored.
And in that bottle of distilled wine, could I hope for sleep in time,
And so to dream of better times, and slumber to be explored,
And then the sweet slumber and of dreams to be explored,
Oh to sleep for evermore.

But in my haste to find that drink, I had not paused to stop and think,
And taken time to reflect and ponder, on what had passed me at my door.
For the origin of that cold shadow, that had touched me on this eve of hallow,
Was sat there waiting with looks so sallow, sitting on my own hearth floor,
Was sat there, sitting, watching, waiting, waiting on my own hearth floor,
Sitting there and nothing more.

Its coat was of the blackest night, that made me stop and stare in fright,
For the creature that before me lay, filled me with terror never felt before.
Its outline glowed before my fire, like some beast emerging from a funeral pyre,
With it's pointed ears and eyes of fire, was more than I could now endure,
My nerves were shot and senses frayed, this sight was more than I could endure,
And I fell senseless, to my floor.

When I woke feeling queasy, my legs felt numb, my mind uneasy,
I saw that beast still there sitting, though now a different beast I saw,
For if this beast were so far from normal, it sat there looking far too informal,
And so I did start to feel remorseful, and my nerves did start to restore
And as my mind did start to settle, my composure did also restore,
For it was but a cat, that I saw.

My courage restored my nerves intact, I dared approach this pussy cat,
And so I dared to bow and ask him, "How came you to pass through my door?"
My question he did not seem to mind, He just sat there cleaning his coat so fine,
For this was but a poor lost feline, sitting, washing on my floor,
Taking in my warmth of fire, as he sat there preening upon my floor.
His damp coat drying, nothing more.

As I stood there watching, thinking, it did seem to me that he was winking,
Hinting that I may be of service, for he did seem quite thin for sure.
So as my guest, I did provide him, with some warmed milk to revive him,
And then some fish, for which one so thin, did cry out loud, he wanted more
And even with three plates now empty, he cried out again for some more
And ate all my fish, for there was no more.

When at last he'd eaten plenty, five dirty dishes all now empty,
He returned to washing by the fire, himself now full, his life restored.
Unsure now of his intent, although by his manner he did seem content,
And so with my last verve now spent, I did sit down again once more,
The very last of my strength now waning, hardly could I stand no more
My energy spent, I had no more.

And as I sat there feeling weary, my head grew numb, my eyes grew bleary,
I did wish to try reading, but my eyes would focus, on words no more.
So as I sat there gently dozing I felt upon me my new friend proposing
That if I did not mind him imposing, we could find mutual comfort to be sure,
So on my lap he did wander, finding comfort to be sure,
For I was warmer than the floor.

Sitting there stroking gently, his fine fur of which there was plenty,
Contented both, he started kneading gently with his paw.
And as my fingers stroked his fur, he responded by way of purr,
And as my vision did start to blur, I did feel my eyes start resting more,
And I slowly slipped into restful, dreamless slumber, resisting sleep no more,
For I was lonely nevermore.

THE END

Top

Index