Dixieland Ghost

Dixieland Ghost In the South. Deep in the hills. There is a forgotten town. Of a war past. On a clear night you can see an old schoolhouse. Next to a grave yard of soldiers from the past. When the moon is full and all is still. A light appears From a window in the old school. At the stroke of midnight you hear a scream. One that could curl your toes. Then on a Whitehorse in the grave yard. A soldier dressed so proud. the school he did go. Riding fast as he could go. In the window, you could see him as he rode the halls. A scream once more and then a yell The South will rise again and God blesses dixieland This poem is in the semi-final round of Poetry Nation's Amateur Poetry Competition for 2016 .