Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

.

The moon was big, the moon was bright

I went a cavorting, on a moony night.

I approached a fortress, dilapidated

Yonder was a tamarind pavilion where ghosts inhabited.

Ghosts of all caste and creed

Ghosts of all decree

Quite selective, so they only dwell

On top of the tamarind tree.

Some were revising tables

Some paying their checks

While some were learning

 How to wring our necks.

You may think I’m joking

Ghosts can never be

They exist for the sake of stories at least

They live for you and me.

Ghosts have evolved over the years

They’re modern now you see

Who they are you now can guess

They are ghosts of technology.

Technology was fine it w as

It was quite demure

We have made a ghost of it

The effects we’ll have to endure.

 I visit that fortress every year

For I am a loner

And once a year I feel you must

Appease the ghosts of honor.

.

.

.

.

.

.\\\\

.

.