Who's there?

My walk with spirituality, and old housess  and people have taken me in many directions.  This poem I dedicate to that walk:


                    Someone came knocking
                              at my door last night.
                                 Uncle Karl thought perhaps
                                    it was old Mrs. Ward from              
                     "Down Steamboat Avenue'  way.
                              She used to come for
                                  butter and cottage cheese
                                    when Grandma was still alive.
                       " I thought Mrs. Ward died
                               years ago?"  I said to Uncle
                                  Karl who was smoking his
                                       pipe near the fireplace.
                        That she did."  He said taking
                               another puff.   " But so did
                                  Grandma." was all that he
                                        answered.
                         After staring at the door
                                for another few minutes,
                                   I turned out the kitchen
                                        lights, and went to bed.