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The Neighbor
December 18, 2012
The old, wooden house
At the end of the block
Seems to be keeping a secret.
The shutters stay drawn
All during the day.
The screams get louder
As the sun gets lower.
Nobody knows what becomes
Of the people who enter
To never come out.
People are too frightened
To ask any questions.
If you venture too close
To the house you will smell
Spring flowers and freshly dug earth.
The man is a regular
At the greenhouse in town.
An avid gardener?
Or something more?
© Elyse G., Wilmington, MA
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