The last candle gasps

The last candle gasps

Guttering out

On the waxy copper pan

Shadows play in senseless proportion

Against a bedroom wall

The high-pitched call of a flying fox

As unsettling

An accompaniment

As screaming

Filtered through thick curtains

Heavily hung.

The creak of the old house

Settling into its foundations

So many stories

Whispering still

As darkness approaches

And night closes in.

When the candle dies

There will be nothing to see

Until cracks in the ceiling

Grow wide enough

For starlight

To fall on pale-faced dreamers

Creating a connection

Between worlds

Big enough

To climb right through.