| THE WHISPERS ECHO |
| The whispers echo in the wall through the doors and down the halls Just like a ghost here from my past searching out what will not last The howling wind it's voice is shrill like painted wolves upon the hill A ghastly moon near pearly white that beams down on starless night Comes the shadows from the mist raising up thier darkend fist One by one I hear them call their chilling whispers in my wall |
| by Thomas Harvey |