Ghostly Horses in the Sky

Ghostly Horses …

The sky seemed odd,
something about the color,
I saw a steel gray sky, the smell of rain –
not the inky black I knew.
No stars and no moon,
for now the clouds hide them,
I see streaks of black clouds,
as the moon tries to peek out.
Thunder was heard,
heralding the approaching storm,
first one this spring –
as lightning began to flash.
In the light the sky lit up,
faces seemed to be looking down
and what seemed to be –
a ghostly carriage and six white horses.
It came riding by
and ghostly spirits nodded and waved,
I could still hear the echo to the thunderous hooves
and then a wild storm broke loose.
The wind picked up
and sent lightning flashing,
wild Mustangs now came dashing,
the sound of gallops mingled with the crash of thunder.
The dark clouds were now smeared,
in streaks across the entire sky
and that old moon –
tried valiantly to hang on up there and smile.
The smile kind of reminded me of a dear friend,
now in the world beyond,
giving me ghostly smile,
a memory from years gone by.
Now it seemed that spirits,
were having a ghostly good time,
as they twirled and turned –
blown through the stormy sky.
Somewhere it seemed,
an old, sweet melody,
could be heard,
as the storm began to slow.
At least the lightning lit the way,
for the spirits up above,
a star or two now appeared –
like glowing lanterns flickering in the dark.
Then the melody I was hearing,
was picked up by the wind once more,
now sounding most mournful and howling –
the storm came riding back in again.
Each thunderous boom,
echoed in my mind
and my heart beat in time,
as it all built to a crescendo.
It then seemed like a door,
to the world beyond was blown open wide
and I wondered what would happen –
if I reached out a waiting hand.
Perhaps in my wildest imagination,
I could climb up to the heavens,
where the ghostly spirits –
were dancing an endless waltz.
Up there where the clouds,
fought with the moon
and the stars,
lit up a sparkling path.
Then through the open window,
the wild wind blew,
caught up the curtains –
that like ghostly hands reached into the room.
Thunderous hoof beats,
signaled the approach of the ghost riders
and the melody of the storm,
reached its highest peak.
It filled each corner of the room,
with light and deafening noise,
there from the shadows –
faces seemed to peek out.
They looked and they seemed to be smiling,
as I heard the whisper of voices so familiar,
yet faded through all the years –
leaving behind memories and silver tears.
A dream or a reality,
the storm had set my imagination dancing,
along with the spirits up in the sky –
someday perhaps I’ll understand why.
For now the storm was blown away,
left me to ponder and dream,
under the bright yellow moon above
and everything was covered –
with raindrops that like tiny pearls,
glittered in the night.

Rasma Raisters

I am a dreamer, a poet and a writer. These are my passions as well as music. My hometown is NYC. Presently I live in the suburbs of Riga, Latvia with my wonderful adopted cat Sid.

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Rasma Raisters

I am a dreamer, a poet and a writer. These are my passions as well as music. My hometown is NYC. Presently I live in the suburbs of Riga, Latvia with my wonderful adopted cat Sid.

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