A True Ghost Story
My grandfather's house at Maypajo
It was built in year nineteen o' five
Of the sturdy wood 'kamagong'
And for ninety long years it survived.
It had delicate capiz- shelled windows
And hard wooden planks for its floors
Wide beams on ceilings that show
Fine architecture and Spanish decor.
In the twenties it held various parties
And its rooms may have held many guests
My aunts and my Mom were real beauties
And I'm sure many gents laid their quests.
But the second World War had been deadly
The Japanese fired many a mortar
Its plastered walls bared testimony
To the ugly devastation of war.
That house witnessed many departures
As its tenants soon married away.
Grandfather, its permanent fixture
He would walk its rooms night and day.
But the years saw him slowly yielding
To the rigors of approaching old age
Like his old house that was depreciating
He was closing and turning Time's page.
At death bed he had wanted to see
(For the house in his will was not clear)
His second daughter, my dear Aunt Nellie
Was summoned for some things she should hear.
But alas, it was rather too late
And the dying man's word left unsaid
For Death was the guest who can't wait
When Aunt Nellie came, he was dead.
Aunt Nellie claimed the property
Said she had the title to her name
Though her four siblings begged to disagree
Her lawyers legalized it all the same
The house boldly stood through the years,
But there were some weird happenings
The neighbors and people had fears,
Some saw an old man at night... walking.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Added by Poetry Lover
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