Woman in Black – is a ghost story told with poetry. Some of us never question the existence of ghosts and others laugh off such stories as utter nonsense. What do I believe? In the daylight hours with the sun high in the sky I do not believe in such tales, but when darkness falls and a full moon is overhead I am much more open minded. Of course I have spent all my wonder years walking the Colorado Rocky Mountains, which are older than time. I have hiked down the forgotten boardwalks of long lost mining towns and the overgrown mislaid cemeteries that dot the backroads of my mountains. I have spent countless hours reading the epitaphs of those folks that lived and died on windblown tombstones and rotted crosses. Ghosts in the end may not be real, but one thing that I have felt in my bones and my soul is the human misery of such places. “Woman in Black” is my version of a ghost story that may or may not haunt the streets of Central City, Colorado.
“Woman in Black”
Walking bundled up against the night, cold and snow,
Quarter size snowflakes floated in the streetlights glow.
She appeared dressed in black, with button up shoes,
Across the street veiled by falling snow looking confused.
Looking the part of this rustic mountain mining town,
Woman out of time looking at me, no smile just a frown.
Pacing the street up and down, this way and that,
Panicked look I could see below her glistening black fur hat.
Slowly crossing the street in the wet slush and snow,
Now next to her, noticing her face had an eerie pale glow.
Sadness was upon her face as she looked at me,
Snow gets thicker, she was harder for me to see.
With mournful look reaching for me she began to fade,
In the darkness before me only snowflakes swayed.
Confused staring in the dark and the snow on the ground,
My footprints only, hers were nowhere to be found.
Slowly I walked, turning my collar to the cold and damp,
I knew I had seen her ghost in this old mining camp.
By Kurt James
Kurt James © 2017
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