Just Another Ghost Story

Outside was bitter cold,

and every night a ghost story was told,

the firewood in the fireplace would burn,

as the boy listened to every page turn,

his eyes grew large,

and there was a haunting chill in the air,

he had drawn farther and farther

back in his chair,

as his father spoke,

every word came out like smoke,

the boy’s eyes narrowed,

and his face was tense,

as the fun and the fear would grow,

he clenched his teeth,

as if he were preparing to weather a blow,

then his eyes he had covered,

as his father’s words hovered,

the fire was dancing,

then a light coalesced

and began to shimmer,

the flames popped and just looked dimmer,

the boy’s imagination was swirling,

softly entangled in the air,

his toes curling,

and his lips were blue and thin,

his fathered mused,

with his right fingers slightly

curled beneath his chin,

it was just another ghost story,

and it was so much fun,

a ghost story shared

between a father and his son.