The Ghost Chat

Ghost below the Sunset?
Ghost below the Sunset? (Photo credit: Scott M Duncan)

Ashen, pale, macabre, worried,
He helped me find some ground,
Several lost miles we traversed,
Me looking to him as a guide,
Through the clouds, he conversed,
Each morning, as I drove west,
He storied me of dreams unkempt,
Of white fields we furrowed, sweated,
Dust strewn sapling irrigated,
Grappling hazy emotions unchained,
Remorseless, winged, ghoulish, morbid,
Crows that refuse rice yoghurt rolled.
You should have lived through the night,
We indeed could have at dinner laughed.

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