Picnic With A Ghost Poem by Ronald Chapman

Woke on a white blanket today.
Looking at the blue sky above me.

Turning I see;

A strange looking farmhouse at the bottom of a hill,
A fence of split logs,
Mountains were rising up, like giants through a misty morning.

Two glasses of red grapes sitting on the blanket,

No one else around...

Plates made of paper filled with cherry pie,

No one else around...

Suddenly, from behind I hear!
A quiet voice was singing words I could not understand.

I turn to look,

No one else is there...