Oh man, I was afraid I’d lost this.  Many moons ago I wrote this, when I was going through (my one and only) phase of tolerable poetry-writing. I think of it as my October poem.

Rain makes a spooky song

On the roof of this house.

I lay awake and try to think

About ghosts.

Little white sheets flitting

Through my room

Under the bed…

Maybe they’re people I know.

I like ghosts.

They keep me company.

Otherwise it’d just be me

And the spooky sound of rain.

(2001, prettyarbitrary)

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