Cross My Heart
Aye, a story of dark portents.
Death and mayhem ensue.
I swear it really happened;
Every blanched word is true.
Small towns have many secrets;
Some one should never tell;
Some never worth sharing;
This one scares me to…
Well, I shouldn’t break this pact
I made with the doctor and nurse;
But I canna keep it in any more;
I feel my poor heart will burst.
I serve at St.Harolde’s as attendant,
Intent on a greater career;
But that is all now busted;
After what I saw happened here.
The rains were falling unending;
Skies as black as a grave;
A wee child came in with blue lips;
No sign she could ever be save.
A thumbprint prominent on her brow
Just over her staring right eye.
Where this mysterious mark came from
No one ever figured out why.
Doctor and nurse could do nothing:
She lay still as death on the gurney,
Waiting for Death’s dread invitation
To take that last ever journey.
Bang! the double ER doors burst open
As lightening announced an arrival.
In hobbled a wraith of an old lady
Personifying the bare hint of survival.
Limping up to the little girl’s gurney
The old lady raised her bony hand,
And placing a wrinkly odd digit
Over the right eye it did land.
Ka-rash! went the lightening as all went dark.
We heard the little girl gasp.
“Sophrosyne,” breathed the old lady
And doctor and nurse and I did collapse.
We awoke to an empty, now lit, room.
All of us wide-eyed and with rictus.
The old lady and girl were both gone,
Though Horace might counsel ‘nullius addictus.’
It happened on the last night of October-
Costumed ghosts and witches played no part.
Everything I said really happened.
I swear to you, it’s all true: cross my heart!