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)
