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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It was a cold wintery night for the dead When I cremated Sam McGee, she said I heard the wind yell out “the lost is found” As we put his gold urn in the frozen ground I had never heard the voice of the dead before On that Tennessee plain, I said “Sam, you’re no more!” But Sam was not finished with the likes of me. He followed me home that night, old Sam McGee Became a yellow orb and spoke inside my dreams. He is as ghostly as you can imagine any spirit, it seems. He had messages, and he wanted back out of the ground, to sup. Horrified by his bombardment of my soul, need I dig him up? Don’t pay him any mind, said my thinking self. He needs to put himself back into the urn on that shelf. This is when I realized burying his urn was a nightmare, not real. Boy, could Sam McGee make me fret, toss, turn, and feel…. What are you after? I asked my friend Sam, who would not leave. You have to promise to bury my urn near Lake Lebarge, okay, Cleave? I am your cousin, I reminded him. I will do it if I am still alive. He finally left my dream about a quarter to five. I called him the next day to tell him to stay out of my dreams. His mama, Aunt Violet was fixing him oatmeal with creams. She tried to wake him up, but he was dead as a concrete post. So this explained a bit why he had come to me as a ghost.
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