A Knock At The Door
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Isabella Caines, Grade 9
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Poetry
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2014
I slump in my black leather chair
Like a sloth devoid of life.
My eyelids flutter, and I wait
For something to happen.
I jolt awake like a thunderbolt
And sit up straight in my room.
A knock at the door- who could it be?
My heart racing, I silently creep downstairs.
Cold beads of perspiration glitter on my brow
And my head pulsates painfully.
I wait expectantly for another knock.
It comes again, louder this time
With a resounding crash, the intruder demands attention.
My frail hard shaking violently, I grope for the knob
And slowly twist it...