We find the trail that once we knew
So many years ago
But memory dimmed, I cannot make out
The track we used to go
Was it the high path up above?
Or the one beside the river?
It brings back thoughts that are so sweet
As I begin to shiver
For ghosts are here, I see them well
The girl guides and our leader
When tea around the campsite stove
Smelled sweet of wood and cedar
We walk beside the river bed
Until we have to cross
The stepping stones looked near enough
I did not see the moss
You went across without a hitch
As then I tried to follow
But slipped upon a mossy stone
And fell into a hollow
The river felt so cold and fast
I called out with the shock
But you were only laughing
As you stood upon a rock
And as I shouted louder still
So frightened for my life
You held your hand and reached for me
From my helplessness and strife
Then as I struggled, cold and wet
Up the hillside steep
I heard the hidden laughter
Of the ghosts that took a peep
As I discarded sodden clothes
And dressed in makeshift rage
I laughed to think of this affair
To someone of my age!
Brenda S. Warhurst
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© 2006 Brenda S. Warhurst