From England's Green and Pleasant Land 
  Robin Hickman

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earlswood
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 Dread

Quietly, softly,
whisper,
it's near.
I feel your hot breath,
It's here,
Can't you hear?
The tension is mounting,
how much more can I bear?
A creak of a floorboard,
a foot on the stair?
We huddle together,
tasting the fear.
Eyes wide open,
so scared as we stare,
at the door to the bedroom,
in the dead of the night.
Waiting for it to enter,
to rip out my heart.



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