Ghosts

Amelia Johnson 

Senior 

Screeching tires and squealing sirens

As a small body is sealed in a bag

Neighbors swarm across the fence

Unable to conceal their disbelief

The mother sits quietly atop

Whispers of murder fill her ears

And she wished for the child to dry her tears

Those afar offer assistance

With lies and rumors the police ignore

For suicidal was the child

Lacking influence, parents mild

Talk from neighbors soon diminished

As the mayor’s wife became a scandal

They chose instead to give a rose

Showing sympathy at last

Vacant was the yard for months

Deserving as a place for ghosts

Mr Fletcher from afar

Observed the yard with thoughts unkind

Wilted flowers and unruly grass

Consumed the yard until at last

One day he was shocked to find

Three small girls swinging in line

Moving slowly and not high

As if being watched by death’s eye

The whole day Fletcher stared beyond

To where the children sat by the fish pond

Although mysterious he could predict

What these girls represent

For that night before his bed

Fletcher spotted 3 floating heads