​ Carol's Haunted Treasure Box       you never know what you're going to find!

Hold my hand, though we come as an army
marching to the height of legend’s towering
Mount Royal Cross –untouchable bejeweled–
up forest steps that flow like water, infinite,
gentle continuity of shapes above the street.

 

Clasp me tight, as the wind twirls my hair
into a thousand flags pointing us southward.
For yonder garden of the buried and forlorn
–tucked in a rumbling earth this night–
may send its trembling souls after those here
to probe and resonate the sacred grounds.

May we all share your safe illuminating light
casting its dancing puppetry at dying leaves.
Young appears the girl after us from the gate
–skipping and jumping in sad confusion–
Her kin’s abandoned her for all times in this lot
thus she awaits eternally her only saving grace
Has not a place in death, as I have none in life.

 

Your presence lends true comfort to the living
who ponder meaning in their study of the dead.
Big questions propel us to navigate the fields
–detectors and thermometers at hand–
Pressing our second sight upon the icy stones
of the heroic sergeant to the stillborn babe,
we delve beyond the surface of each tragic tale.

 

Together we stand strong against all darkness
inhabited by creatures that thrive on despair.
Our presence in this murky wood’s by choice
–defiance of all logic and normality–
We see an orb-filled sky, a face in every tree
whoever hides there, must be caught as proof.

 

Shelter me, as we pass McTavish's mausoleum.
Above the excavated tomb, an eerie fog is rising.
And into all our senses, at the speed of lightning
a rousing baron in his coffin toboggans the land!
Courageous ghost hunters, we run for the hills!