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A narrative poem

She feels it over her shoulder.
Looking around there is nothing but air.
Her familiar surroundings are all she sees.
She turns back to her desk, there it is again.
This time in the window, a reflection, a stare.
From the corner of her eye, now she is sure.
A presence, not friendly, wanting into her room.
Just looking away is all she can do.
Pretend it’s not real, hope for the best.
A touch on her neck, air moves across…



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Teacher whose life is family, books, and music. I write stories, poetry, and articles. Join Medium at