Under the stern gaze of the summer moon <br />my big sister, Juliet to Romeo, <br />Cathy to her Heathcliff, <br />slid each night on the porch's sloping roof <br />down to Lovers' heaven <br />below our bedroom window. <br /> <br />Little sister hugged the secret <br />into her midnight pillow, <br />waited for the tap of stones on glass <br />then flitted like a ghost to unlock doors <br />and let big sister in <br />from her illicit play. <br /> <br />Now that romance has flowered, <br />yielded fruit and withered all away, <br />I wonder, does a ghostly <br />tapping on the glass <br />disturb the dreams of sleepers in that room <br />whenever moonlight silvers trees and grass.<br /><br />Janice Windle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poems-from-haunted-houses-the-go-between/
