[David Callin]

This inn has stood here long enough
to fill it up with ghosts
made up of more enduring stuff
than most, unwilling hosts
that linger on wan corridors
or round a favourite room,
spreading in dark interiors
a more pervasive gloom.

The jealous maid of 212,
that does not like to see
how sundry couples passing through
are happier than she,
does not torment the tranquil bed
where settled we sleep on.
She may be fuming overhead
but we are 121.