On Partridge Island,
On Halloween,
This Lighthouse keeper
And his cat/kitten,
Black as the night
With one white mitten,
Named
(would you guess it}
Paw,
Will stay put,
Except to check the Light.
For the night is neither
Calm nor inviting.
To humans
And cat/kittens.
But the Dead,
The Souls,
The restless Spirits.
Oh,
You can feel their oppression,
From one end
Of the Island
To the other.
And the revolving Light,
From atop
Its solid Tower,
Gives them no peace.
They want to come back.
They want things as they were.
These are the poor
Spirits
Who left,
Unfulfilled.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / (A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
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