a ghost...me

The Ghost…Me?


The dog woke me up came into my bedroom looked unnerved

and whimpered. In the living room that once had been a stable

A mule stood munching on straw, but it was not the animal

the dog was frightened of, but of a little man in the corner of

the stable asleep on a hay bale, beside him an empty wine jug.

When he saw me he screamed like he had seen a ghost and ran

through a door that was no longer there…the mule easy going,

followed suit. In 1952 the owner of the stable claimed he had

seen a ghost, a strange person who looked like a foreigner.

When I bought the stable/barn and converted it into a dwelling

the villagers told me the place was haunted, but also with a sly

smile, said the previous owner was fond of his homemade wine.

The dog went back to sleep, while I picked straw off the floor;

the poor man had seen the future and I had seen into the past.