Return to Arkham
Witch-haunted Arkham is calling me home,
Like proverbial moths to candle flame,
I left as a youth, the wide world to roam,
But toward no place could I feel the same.
This New England town holds secrets and more,
Buried deep within history's pages,
A home to scholars of forbidden lore,
And mysteries passed down through the ages.
The Miskatonic's rushing waters call,
And the ancient church bells are now pealing,
Brown leaves of autumn are starting to fall,
While my feelings are long past concealing.
In joy I walk a dark, Arkham lane,
And until my death will surely remain.
© 1999 Ron Shiflet
First Appearance: The Netherreal
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