That Ghost Poem by Pamela lutwyche
That Ghost
That ghost, I don’t know who he thinks he is,
Standing there at the bottom of my bed,
Saying spooky things and messing with my head,
Well, I’m not having it; he’s not doing that to me.
The next time he comes,
I will have the ghost busters here you see,
Then we will see who is freighted,
we will watch him run away,
and hopefully, he will never come back,
that’s all I have to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/12/2024 5:27:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
