There was a new ghost in my sleep
That slid below a sleeping pillow.
I try to shoo it away by my poem.
It may resurface on the darkness
Like a new ship on a sea horizon.
Ghosts come back reverse footed
But rarely on back of a dog’s howl
Or Himalayan watchman’s whistle
Pacing up and down a dark night.
Their shadowy feet turned inward
In darkness,freeze a marble moon
High up in the sea of a dark night
Turning it pale with ghostly fright.
A materialistic poem scares away
A flat footed ghost on a dark night
If your vers libre is on reverse feet
To keep it guessing where headed.