POETRY, GHOSTS, AND VAMPIRES
He told me that he loved
The warm breeze on his face
The smell of pine trees
And water on granite
The sounds of nothing but the woods.
Then he vanished
Never to be seen by me again.
He was my best friend,
Now I am the Ghost and he is gone to me.
Nigel the Ghost gave me a little bit of a smile with a cold chill that went with it. “I like how you wrote that down for me, all poetic like. You know, my story and your simple words.. You have a talent of making a complicated story simple in sort of a bad free verse way. I like it. The fact that you’re a Vampire doesn’t even figure into it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment Nigel.” I told my Ghost.
When one lives in the presence of a Ghost you do things for each other, like write down verse and banter about life and death and more so the in-between areas where we exist.
“I’ve really missed him,” said Nigel.
“I know,” I told him, “I know.”
We talked of the woods, rock climbing, long-lost friends, and of course what we’re doing for Halloween. Just like normal folks, then again, this is normal… at least for me. You know, poetry, Ghosts and Vampires.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
First posted here in 2014