Poem By Herman K Viele
Upon an old Kentucky bridge
a specter hovered, gowned in white.
His goal to make it o'er the ridge
was hindered this November night.
He slowly stopped the blue sedan
and gazed into her ghostly eyes.
The story of her death began;
he heard it through her mystic cries.
One dark and frigid winter's eve
she stood outside the closed cafe.
A stranger offered her reprieve;
his smile led common sense astray.
He asked her, 'Do you need a lift? '
She answered, 'Yes, if you don't mind.'
But once inside his face would shift,
no longer did he look so kind.
She calmly said, 'I'd better wait,
my father's coming anytime.'
He locked the doors, it was too late;
a victim of his horrid crime.
Her spirit faded from his sight
but left behind a chill inside,
for on this cold November night,
ten years ago, 'twas here she died.
The haunting tale left him in tears
and staring at the gorge below;
this time each year she reappears
to lead them where they did not go.