Going home to his heart.
| Prompt: A GHOST STORY |
taboo words: ghosts, specters, creepy, haunting, fear or any derivatives of these words
With a heavy heart and hollowed soul
he trudged the darkened, tree-lined track.
He'd been to see her yet again
and dreaded returning to his empty shack.
She'd taken all the light, you see;
the joy, the laughter she'd spread around.
Now t'was just a lifeless space--
her life-music silenced, no merry sound.
Up ahead, he saw a flickering light.
He knew he'd left no candle burning.
Now a chill wrapped around him:
just like the fog wisps: twisting, turning.
Golden gleam in kitchen window;
how often she'd let candle glow
to welcome him from farm and labor,
to guide him home, her love to show.
Before he'd even reached the door,
he smelled his favorite rabbit stew.
He simply couldn't understand
how this could possibly be true.
And there she stood with arms spread wide
beckoning him into warmth and light.
Her green eyes shining, her russet curls,
it was his love come home that night.
They found him outside the graveyard gate,
for he'd been to see his Emily May.
No matter the weather, how fair or foul,
he walked to see her every day.
Folks guessed he simply could not adjust.
How sad, they'd thought, on the funeral day.
But those folks were wrong, you see, for now
they were together, again, to stay.