The Ghost

I met an extrovert just the other day,

Funny thing, it actually is,

With my being an introvert and all,

Yes, that and also that he is a ghost,

It was opaque,

With a viewpoint so clear and new,

It did not bellow from the inside out,

As so many of the imitators,

Those portraying his kind in film and on television,

The way they often do,

He was pleasant,

Completely unimposing,

To the trained eye,

One could say,

He acted similarly

To the way we do,

I inquired why he was haunting me precisely,

To which he responded rather cleverly,

Apologetic and nervous, he explained the reason why,

He saw a ghost he met the other night,

To avoid her he dipped through my walls, to get himself out of sight,

Perhaps I was easily duped, but his story sounded entirely reliable

To a person such as myself, one that actually believes in ghosts