The Ghosts Of Chaddesden Park

One by one birds slowly fly away.
But they will be back another day.
Into the darkness of failing light,
Soon comes the chilly night.

The stars shine brightly overhead.
The moon is full, lights where I tread.
Shadows are moving between the trees.
The grass is long as they brush my knees.

Silent and unmoving, there is no gale.
Just the stillness of air, seems brittle and frail.
No one about, I almost laughed.
The silence is broken by a passing aircraft.

Disappointed, I continue my quest.
I am not tired, no need to rest.
Over the fields, to an old oak.
The hanging tree, where necks have been broke.

Legend has it, A highwayman was strung.
And a thief from the town was also hung.
I feel the presence of the vigilante mob,
Who captured the men and finished the job.

But now it is late, I must return home.
The feeling grows that I'm not alone.
Ghosts of the past, from days gone by.
They whisper to me, I hear them sigh.

Quickly I walk through the dark,
Over the fields on Chaddesden Park.
Back through the trees in the wood.
Spirits follow me, there is a chill in my blood.

Safely back home, I welcome the warm.
The ghost out there, they wish me no harm.
But they will greet me, when I go back.
But only in darkness, when everything is black.

i like this piece of job.

This poem is based on true feelings I get when I walk in Chaddesden park at night. There is an oak tree in the park that was used for hanging in the 18th century. Chaddesden park is opposite my home.

that's cool.

I took the dog for a walk there last night. I swear I heard someone whispering near my left side, but there was no one there. Felt unnatuarally cold.