By: R.A. Slater
11/21/12
I was wandering late one night
Pondering the meaning of life
By the light of a pale moon
When I was interrupted by a curious sight
Ghost riders in the sky leaving their trails of fire
As slow moving meteorites
They alighted in my path and approached
'Tell me young lady, what country are we in?' The pale rider in front asked
'Why, it's America!' I answered in stammer
The riders in the back broke into chorus
Singing 'Song of the South' off key
'We're looking for Georgia,' the leader did say
'You're close,' I stammered again and pointed south 'it's about a three hour drive that way!'
'I guess that fiddler gave us good directions after all!' The leader said with a sigh
With a tip of his hat, he thanked me and gave me a wink
Then as one they turned their fiery steeds
And galloped away, still singing in their off kilter way
I stood there amazed and watched them go
As odd as it was, the sight as they again lit up the shy
Really was something beautiful
With my path again clear I continued on my walk
No more answers than when I started
But my heart beat lighter
Their song lingering in the air
Long after their trails had faded
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