Thanks to all of you for taking time to read my poetry and the warm, sincere compliments. I'm glad it was undrerstood and you could relate to the subject matterBlessings, Ginny
One sinister night, heavy laden with a
dense layer of fog, no presence of
moon or stars. Shrieks
of a tree-dwelling owl and eerie noises
of a double iron gate, hanging,
swinging loosely on rusted hinges at
an entrance to an old rural cemetery,
was all I immediately heard.
One could barely see the age-old
granite headstones of ancestors
interred centuries ago.
Wait! Are those footsteps I hear
in the distance?
Is it just my imagination?
A slight breeze rustles fallen leaves, and
feelings of fear cause my mind to visualize
spirits and shadows darting in, out, everywhere
around me. Thus invading the resting places of
these rusticate deceased souls.
As I awaken, veiled in a blanket of sweat,
great relief overwhelms me, alters me
into a state of reality. I arise from my moist
bed sheets, opening heavy drapes, foreseeing
a glorious morning sunrise.
To my horror, all that presents outside
my bedroom window is gray, dark, dense fog.
Quickly, I close the curtains, asking myself;
"Was it only a dream, or was there
Indeed, an eerie feeling of Deja vu!