A ghost came visiting
One fine autumn night.
Walked out of moonlight,
Giving me a fright. 

Ghost stood there moaning,
His woeful eyes on mine.
Then, communicated in rhyme
He was worried about Time.

Ghost had heard a voice
Lying upon his deathbed.
“You’ve been picked,” Voice said.
“Picked to head the Poets-Dead.”

“Infinity is now your home,
Eternity the length of your rule.
Alive, you were brilliant, vain and cruel,
Making other poets feel like fools.”

Ghost appeared even sadder
As he revealed his plight.
Seems ghost had had a passion to write
And used his poetry as a knife.

Voice had added one last command;
“You must listen to ALL the deads verse
To learn each poet has his or her worth.
When Time has ended, so lifts your curse.”

Ghost stood there groaning,
My sympathy was split.
I guess in the end we get what we give.
Be compassionate to others as you live.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/6/04