trapped in the past

the wind is keening in the chimney tonight
random mouthorgan wails that haul me in my drowsiness

back to the windrattled doors and flapping curtains
and the bogeymen of my childhood ive never heard

the banshees cry but know that one night it will come
because my granny heard it while i sat on her bed

in nineteen fifty five and now i am her age when she died
no not quite there are still two months to go