the ghost

it was day time
the sun shone happily
the ghost appeared sudden,
gliding over trees and bracken,
its eerie cries heartbroken

on the wing of a light wind,
it flew, crowned with sequins,
i heard him lament,
telling about his torment.

the story was, old jean told,
a young girl sick of love,
mourning a boy that choose the sea,
hanged herself from the tallest tree.

she cannot rest until her love
comes back to put her to rest.
and she will like the dove,
err forever in the forest.

the ghost

nickette

Woody Point, Australia

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ghost poem

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  • boko
,
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