With a yelp, Charlie jumped off the bed,
And found another shock instead.
His hands were transparent, so were his feet,
This time Charlie gave a little bleat.
What’s going on, dear old Charlie thought,
Is it some virus that I have caught?
I bet, it was from that pug called Susie,
Off late, she had been looking a little woozy.
Now, Charlie wasn’t an overly bright chap,
(So the fact that he thought of even this, deserves a clap)
He was wrong of course, as he’d usually be,
Dear Charlie was afflicted with far worse, you’ll see.
He put up a hand to ruffle his hair,
As he usually did in the face of despair.
What happened next increased poor Charlie’s dread,
When his hand went straight through his head!
Down and down through his body it went,
Just passing through, never once making a dent.
Finally, all the way down to his feet,
Both of which looked as pale as a sheet.
And it would have kept on going through the ground,
Had Charlie’s ears not picked up a sound.
‘Ahem!’ said someone as Charlie turned,
He whimpered, and his stomach churned.
‘A .. A .. A,’ said Charlie, pointing at the man,
His hand was shivering, his face drawn.
‘A Ghost, yes,’ said the man, stroking his beard,
‘Aren’t you a smart one?’ he sneered.
‘I am sorry?’ said Charlie, keeping his cool,
He was not going to stand being taken for a fool.
‘Now, none of that, dear sir. I know stuff,’
‘Ghosts are not real. Don’t you look so tough.’
The bearded one laughed, sank down to his knees,
It was ten minutes before he stopped and wheezed.
He wiped tears from his eyes, and chuckling still,
Turned Charlie around on his heel.
Facing a mirror, Charlie finally saw,
The sight that made him drop his jaw.
He looked exactly like the bearded fellow,
The same see-through body, shaking like jello.
Charlie still refused to believe what he knew,
‘Am I a ghost then? Am I like you?’
‘Yes, Charlie Eldridge, this spookiness is yours to keep,’
‘You see, last night, you died in your sleep.’