When I was a little girl,
about three and four,
a see-through boy stood
at my parents bedroom door
on the really dark nights
when I would sleep between them.
While they snored,
he'd beckon me
to follow and we could
play games that he'd teach me.
I didn't wake my parents
to tattle on this boy
that faded in and out.
I wasn't scared.
I was just curious
about why he was in my house
how he was in my house
in the middle of Star Route 19
in Cool Ridge.
No little boys lived nearby
to play with me and he
never came around in in the light.
Mom, Dad, Misty:
no one could see him but me.
He just wanted to play,
and I probably should
have played with him.
It was nighttime
and he was lonely.
I thought, thought about that little boy
and where his parents were
and why he wouldn't show himself
to anyone but me.
And when that house burned down
after we moved to town,
I hoped he had gotten out.
He didn't move to town.