Walking all alone at night,
Past the cemetery gates.
Legs almost frozen with fright,
What am I doing out so late.
Whistling as I stumble by,
Trying to be really brave.
Wish my legs had wings to fly,
Passing by these lonely graves.
The wind moans high overhead,
As I get to my front door.
They can't hurt me they're all dead,
Well at least not anymore.
8/24/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem