The Girl in Black

A painting of a solemn girl in black hangs o’er my bed Another, a flow’r of blue and gold sits right next to her head One night a light shone from outside my dim-lit room Her face reflected in the flow’r, sneering in the gloom I ran right then, and she, a ghost, did chase me down the hall I slammed a door right in her face and hid, I do recall Yet she stood in the doorway still, clothed in only black She peered at me as I cowered, shouting “Please go back!” Her head cocked left, and turn she did, back to my darkened room I mustered strength and went inside – she’d vanished in the gloom I ripped the paintings off the wall and threw them down the stairs As gone she was, I woke from dreaming, now not quite so scared A week or so from that dark night I was trying on clothes But, having lost my glasses, could barely see past my nose I went downstairs to find a mirror so that I could see And peering at me, head cocked left, the girl in black was me