Poetry Blogs (ghostly)

My father and mother in front, us boys behind.
It was the most wonderfully frightening experience for us back then.
When asked it was always the way we wanted to go.
Not the usual way down the brightly lit carriageway, but 
through the village then, a turn to the right
down the 'ghosty' way on our way back home.

Dimming the car lights
The horror show could begin.
The white blanketed road...

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