The Ghost of Hector Pond

The sun sets, casting the sky in pink.
And now I am alone.
At least I am, I hope, I think.
I will not return home

I cast some stones into the pond.
Distorting my own reflection.
I dream about what lies beyond,
And ponder pale complexion.

A relief it is the sun is gone,
My skin is only so-so.
My fears are that of the rosy dawn,
The sun tends to melt snow.

How white I am, I fear I’ll crack,
And death doesn’t quite suit me.
I’ll be gone and won’t come back,
How frightening that would be.

The ripples die down by now,
And I am still alone.
I sit and think of how,
I can never return home.