Our Town Ghost Poem by David Harris

Five of us were playing cards
while outside someone was banging
as if, they were constructing something.
I got up to see who it was,
but there was no one there.
I scratched my head and returned
to the hand I was playing.
About a half an hour later,
we heard someone walking about.
With torch in hand, I went again to investigate.
Again, there was no one there.
I shone the torch up and down the street.
The footsteps had stopped by now.
We could only guess it was the ghost,
which roams around our little town.
It hurts no one and no one is afraid of it.
Some say it our old friend Jock.
Other say it is someone else.
Unless one of us sees it, we will never be sure.
Whoever it is we wish
they would show themselves occasionally,
so we would then know whom to say goodnight to.

5 February 2009


Authors Note:
I belong to a small Western re-enactment town called Deadwood.
The town is haunted by an arrangement of ghosts, none of them harmful. A number us have witnessed several unusual things. The poem recounts an incident, which happened one night a few years ago when five of us were playing card in the back of one the building at gone midnight.