Wind whistles through the air,

sliding through a window,

giving ghastly moans

as I lie in my bed.

Eyes clenched shut,

ears blocked with pillows,

yet the sound penetrates:

a long moan, “murrrrr”

Screaming, I flee

from the antagonist window,

only to find the breeze

sneaks into every room.

Outside I run,

to an old mound of dirt

that I filled myself,

three years past.

This mound for a sapling

now growing in stature,

but in goes my shovel,

again  to dig.

So I stare at the hole

I have just made

with filthy fingers

and shuddering back.

The wind blows loud in my ears,

and I see a withered face

crawling with insects,

as its bloodless lips exhale

“…derrrr”

The wind blows me off my feet,

into the hole I fall

to be covered by the dirt

I used to plant a sapling.