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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Ghost >> ID #565832 |   |
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A darkened road
Chilled by a breeze. Dead leaves flutter Like dying birds. A thumbnail scrap of moon Barely visible in the sky Look there! It's the bridge! The legend says She died there. On a night like this, Her car took the curve, Missed the bridge, The murky creek Flooded her car. Every anniversary Of her death She rides again. A ghostly passenger On a brief trip Over the bridge. Only to disappear On the other side. ***Based on a local story about a young woman who died on the old bridge that spanned Bayou Meto Creek many years ago.***
© Copyright 2002 Madame Momerath (UN: jemstar74 at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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