Poem – Ghosts Almost Never

‘Tis the last day of October (in case you hadn’t noticed :D), and I have spent the day drinking in the beauties of the Oregon coast with my family. It’s been a day full of sunshine, tree lined roads, and blue, blue water as far the eye can see. Oh, and a little bit of wandering around dark neighbourhoods with my young cousins in search of chocolate to finish off the evening. πŸ˜€

Anyways, in the spirit of the day, I thought I’d share a wee little poem I wrote while driving through fading sunset forests yesterday evening. It’s just a bit of fun, and I thought you might enjoy it. πŸ™‚


Ghosts almost never


paint your house like lemon meringue pie –

all crisp white and tenacious yellow


take cat naps curled on a sun-streaked floor

tea kettle whispering a lullaby on the hob


scuffle through French mustard leaves

collecting conkers in October dusk


sing in the village choir – they leave that to

the wolves howling up at the butter moon


And that’s that. πŸ™‚ May the last hours of October be kind to you as we slip into soft November…

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this little Halloween poem of mine – let’s chat in the comments! πŸ™‚

Author: Hannah

Jesus follower. writer. bibliophile. dreamer.

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