Camp Fire Ghost Story Poem by Jim O'Donnell

Camping by the firelight
Into the wee small hours of the night
Ghost stories we would tell
About monster some from hell

Tree’s they rustle in the night
The tent zips pull up nice and tight
To keep the darkness out tonight
All is still not a sound

Then I hear a rustle on the ground
As something stirs and move around
The stories by the fire told
Makes my spine chilled and cold

Creature’s from a spooky past
Have come to get me in the dark
Sleeping bag pulled up tight
Body shaking full of fright

A voice calls outside the door
Wakie wakie rise and shine
The coffees on and the morning fine

02 05 2009
Chellaston