SEEN A MAN WHO WASN’T THERE

SEEN A MAN WHO WASN’T THERE

I seen a man upon the stair,
Yet knew that he was never there,
But in my room, without a care,
The fellow sat upon my chair.

I never wondered who he was,
Or why he came, or what the cause,
He tipped his hat and bowed his head,
Then pointed to my empty bed.

His face was pale, his eyes were grey,
His coat was torn and worn away,
He held a watch without a hand,
And dropped upon my floor some sand.

Each night he climbed the creaking stairs,
And every night I found him there,
He never spoke or made a sound,
His shadow never touched the ground.

At last I asked who he might be,
And why he always followed me,
He pointed at the looking glass,
And waited for the truth to pass.

I searched the glass from side to side,
But my reflection chose to hide,
The stranger’s face was shining bright,
While mine was missing from its light.

He whispered, “This old house is mine,
You left this world some years behind,
I see you walking on the stair,
Though people say you are not there.”

Now every night we meet alone,
Two haunted souls inside one home,
I see a man sat in my chair,
He sees a ghost who isn’t there.

Since that night, we walk the halls,
And pass straight through the papered walls,
We hear the living come and go,
But who we were, they’ll never know.

A family moved in late one spring,
And filled the rooms with everything,
Their little girl stood on the stair,
Then asked me why I waited there.

I looked behind her, filled with fear,
The man within the chair drew near,
He raised his watch within his hand,
And dropped another grain of sand.

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