GHOSTS IN THE PADDOCK
Posted: Wed Apr 08, 2015 5:03 am
GHOSTS IN THE PADDOCK
There are ghosts in the paddock
an eerie parade
of mist shrouded figures
that appear and then fade.
The steam from their nostrils
Disgruntled retort
to the bite of the winter -
with displeasure they snort
There are ghosts in the paddock
disappearing at will
into velveteen pillows
of white frosty chill
The mist shrouded valley,
a white satin pall
beckoning sunrise,
a chilled curtain call.
There are ghosts in the paddock
An image sublime
A celestial portrait
stood frozen in time
But the veil of the morning
Will lift with the sun
As the ghosts disappear and
a new day's begun.
Copyright (c) Allan Cropper April 2015
There are ghosts in the paddock
an eerie parade
of mist shrouded figures
that appear and then fade.
The steam from their nostrils
Disgruntled retort
to the bite of the winter -
with displeasure they snort
There are ghosts in the paddock
disappearing at will
into velveteen pillows
of white frosty chill
The mist shrouded valley,
a white satin pall
beckoning sunrise,
a chilled curtain call.
There are ghosts in the paddock
An image sublime
A celestial portrait
stood frozen in time
But the veil of the morning
Will lift with the sun
As the ghosts disappear and
a new day's begun.
Copyright (c) Allan Cropper April 2015