The moon, entombed in folds of gray,
Peers through the clouds were shadows stray.
And Todd Hall’s windows— dim, and tall,
Keep silent watch above the wall.
Miss Jessica Todd, with iron will,
Protects her sleeping charges still.
No man was welcome through the door,
Yet suitors sought the laundry floor.
Beneath the stairs, through linen white,
They crept like thieves against the night.
Then came the keys, the measured tread—
A sound that filled their hearts with dread.
The lights above them flickered twice,
The air grew still and cold as ice.
Her footsteps neared the laundry door,
But no shadow crossed the grey cracked floor.
They fled through steam, through dust, through gloom,
From something stirring in that room.
No living creature crossed their way,
Yet none who heard her dared to stay.
By day, she guards each shadowed hall;
By night, the Cottage hears her call.
Beside the fountain, pale as bone—
She walks the moonlit grounds alone.
At curfew’s toll, take heed, take flight,
Her law survives the longest night.
You’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs…
But turn around, and no one’s there.
