Ghosts at 2 AM

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.

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