There was a ghost who found a bow Belonging to an average joe He kept it close for it did seem Soft to touch, by sight it gleamed It matched his tongue and so he took the bow in hand around the brook He kept it close and eight years past And wore it often but alas Dull and tattered worn and weary The bow looked rather old and dreary It soon died; he held it dear And saw it pass from ghostly sphere Into the living realm it went To be made with dollars spent And found a home in one girl’s hair Where it did live, her daily wear.
MalingFebruary 3, 2013 at 12:29 pm
VashtiFebruary 5, 2013 at 4:42 pm
Wow…this is creepy, but so good….
theoFebruary 6, 2013 at 9:05 am
Sometimes I feel one of my talents is being creepy…