Yasa lives among the trees and talks to them for hours.
She walks through swaying blades of grass, scrutinizing all the flowers.
When she’s bored she debates the clouds, causes millipedes to quiver.
Yasa lurks near doors and halls, doesn’t that make you shiver?
Yasa once crossed all this land, roamed mountains proud and tall.
She watched ambitions rise from dust and then she watched them fall.
She carries a key in her cold left hand that opens any door.
Yasa walks in places you have never seen before.
Yasa doesn’t tell us what she hears and what she sees.
She doesn’t tell us who she tells or our hearts would seize.
If you think the squeak of the wooden stair is just all in your head.
Don’t worry, that’s only Yasa, coming to creep beneath your bed.
Yasa whispers ice-cold secrets to you while you’re fast asleep.
Things you’d long forgotten and things to make you weep.
If you’re chosen by her for what’s inside your head.
She’ll make you walk behind her, down dream paths you’ll dread.
Yasa’s not a real threat, I made her up, whole cloth.
That flickering by the front porch light? It’s just a fluttering moth.
The scrape against the bedroom door? That’s nothing you should fear.
What’s that whispering, you ask? That’s not for me to hear.
Thanks for reading and being part of Poison Ivy House. I appreciate you!
I’m grateful for the freedom we have to express ourselves on this Independence Day.
I’m working on a sequel romance to Where There’s Smoke and mapping out our next Idlebelle book, though it needs to simmer a bit. I think it’s time we got to know Lyric’s story, don’t you! Waiting for my author proof for Flames of Indigo. If all goes well, the paperback should be available toward the end of the month! I also have a couple of short horror thriller story ideas, too. How to get it all written—that is always the challenge.
Do you ever have too many ideas all at once? Since taking the plunge back into writing I feel almost overwhelmed at times. I just keep a notebook handy and use my notes app in my phone. At least I don’t lose them.
A lot of weeding and mowing and weed-whacking in my life lately. Coop-cleaning. Etc. I get quite a bit of writing thinking done at the same time, though. Fall and Winter are coming and then I will be back at the desk much more.
If you wandered by today for the first time, come sit a spell. Find a story just for you. I’m glad you’re here and I’d love for you to subscribe to Poison Ivy House.
Thanks for stopping by—it’s good to see you again,
Lyndsey
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What a magical, mythical, melancholy poem. I 🖤it!
I don't know why but Yasa made me a little teary instead of creeping me out. Loved it!