Ghost of a Chance

His long limp locks were greasy,
his shuffling scuffed shoes were black.
It’s hard to play it cool & breezy
when you’re carrying a demon on your back.
She still screams inside his head,
hurt by those you love the most.
Though their love life’s long dead
he still feels fearful of her ghost.

In same shade where he tried to disguise,
he met an awkwardly afraid angel there.
Green glasses framed fragile fearful eyes
underneath brittle blonde birds nest hair.
Trembles testified that her head’s haunted
by a ghost or two all of her own.
Come calling quietly when she’s in company
come wailing wickedly when she’s alone.

Magical music leaped louder all around her,
yellow and red dressed dancers filled the hall.
His fumbling fearful fingers found her,
“C…c…care to d…dance?” his stuttered call.
Shocked, she still smiled and nervously nodded,
he held her close, they swayed so slow
as the fast, furious music poked and prodded
(they were never ones to go with the flow).

No matter how harangued and haunted you still stand a ghost of a chance –
just be brave, believe and behold the strange sweet spirits of romance.

Copyright © 2015 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.

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