It wasn't
midnight but the ghosts came out to play
One sat on
my shoulder and refused to go away
Three of
them danced a macabre foxtrot
While some
others wolf whistled like wind through the trees
Scared
though I was, my sixth sense kicked in
And I communicated
with the spirits till it was daybreak
Some told me
stories of the East India Company
Others
recited ballads composed from their misery
While some
gentlemen gave me a lesson in history
I could not
see Boz anywhere but I met Hardy
He pressed
upon me a copy of his complete works
I left the
graveyard with my head buzzing
Yet it was a
spiritual experience that nobody is denying
I came back
home with the ghost on my shoulder
She likes it
here, in her warm corner with a bed
I wonder if
I'll ever see ghosts the same way again
The Bilge Master
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