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...Janet’s eyes went wide at the words,
Edna said,”It was so tragic.
Steve would come dance on Friday nights,
with the girls he worked his magic.
He met a woman that that dark night,
had no idea she was a wife.
Her husband came up, in a rage,
found them in her car, ‘at play.’

“He smashed the window with a gun,
they say he was seeing red,
aimed at Steve and opened fire,
putting three rounds into his head.
He fled the scene, up to Glendow,
the police found him hiding out.
The jury his life didn’t spare,
they gave that bastard the chair.

“The wife was shattered by the act,
some say that she moved up north,
can’t say for sure, but I know that,
she never came here no more.
A year later Steve reappeared,
and gave a girl a night of cheer,
just to flee before the 'fun,'
my dear, you’re not the only one.

“It seems every two months I speak
to another young thing like you,
most of them don’t believe it,
but I swear these words are true.
Steve just never had his fill,
and I fear that he never will.
Forever bound up by the wrong,
here his spirit lingers on.”

Janet retreated from the room,
bracing herself against the door,
desperately she scanned the bar,
looking out on the dance floor.
Steve still was absent from the crowd,
she didn’t know what to do now,
so she made for the entrance-way,
for in this place she could not stay.

But outside the fear faded fast,
and a breeze tussled her hair,
gently, like a lover’s hand,
as if somebody stood there.
A simple, quiet presence that
she knew deep down could not be bad.
Perhaps Steve really was a ghost,
certainly much kinder than most.

to spend all of your afterlife
sweeping the cowgirls off their feet,
she supposed there could be worse ways
to live out an eternity.
Bittersweetness ran through her mind,
she said,”Thanks Steve, for the good time.
Tonight stood out amongst the best,
and I pray, some day, you’ll find you’re rest….”
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