The ghosts sunbathed in the midnight sun
Waiting for coaches coming to cross the river Styx
Preparing their ambush, at the Ferryman Toll Booths,
The ghosts would sing, dance and taunt the frightened ones
Crossing and never returning.

The midnight sun felt uneasy near the river Styx
Edging away. The gloom deepened and young ghosts
Were caught and engulfed: No one grieved.
Soon the Ferryman Toll Booths were in
Stygian blackness burying the last journey.

When everyone had gone (were no more) the midnight sun shone again
The ghosts relaxed on the banks of the river Styx, which was rippling
After a job well done; satisfied and secure
The After-Life was fully functioning with no problems and
Even ghosts were well regulated


This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Ghosts

  1. delsmith444 says:

    Soon the Ferryman Tool Booths were in

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