but in my thirties when I was a jogger,
I took a shortcut one night

through a small cemetery
a 5 minute run

and though I didn’t believe in ghosts
and saw none in the cemetery

jogging (actually running)
through that quiet cemetery
scared me so much

that I almost could feel
my hair standing on end

Bob Boyd

After listening to many accounts of people who experienced ghosts, or claim they did, on the radio program Coast to Coast and many other accounts at different YouTube videos and websites, like ghosts in light houses, I’ve become a believer in ghosts. But what I don’t understand, if ghosts are real, why would they haunt a musty, old house? Were I a ghost, I think I’d travel to many different places. I definitely wouldn’t be a homebody ghost.

By the way, here’s a poem about a residual ghost:

Lucy

Lucy was as fair a woman as a woman can be.
She passed from this life at only twenty three.
On the day of her marriage to Charles Porter,
She tripped on her wedding gown on a stairs.
She died when her head hit the bottom step.
Now she wanders day and night in her wedding gown,
As if still trying to get to her wedding that never happened.
I’ve tried to communicate with Lucy about going to the Light,
But she never seems to acknowledge my presence.
Perhaps Lucy is only like a film replaying day and night.

Bob Boyd