Ghosts of the Pines

There are ghosts who roam the Pinelands; they are from a time gone by.
Earthly bodies now are mouldered - but their spirits will not die.
Pirates guard their buried treasure, ghostly Injuns stalk their trails.
Shipwrecked sailors pace the beaches, ever watching for their sails.

Youthful men and fair-haired maiden can be seen in misty light.
Haunted by the loves that failed them, sorrowing, they search by night.
Patriots still keeping vigil for the foe which came in wrath;
do their spirits ever mingle when they meet upon woods path?

There are ghost towns in the Pinelands; settlements where people thrived
Gone, their mills and houses crumbled; only legends have survived.
One day I happened on a ghost town, stopped awhile to look around,
in hope, perhaps, to find a relic, if anything could still be found.

Trees grew thru' the old foundations; lilacs, roses, herbs grew wild.
Digging broken bricks and potsherds I found the trinket of a child.
While I entertained sad daydreams, a dismal sky wept down its tears.
Then, 'mid ring of the sawmill, I heard  spirit laughter thru' the years.

- Lillian Arnold Lopez "Pineylore"

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