Dinner With A Ghost

The ghost is eating pizza,
nodding silently
as if he approves
of our conversation.

I wish he’d say something,
but he chooses not to,
stays mum & sullen.

It’s hard not to assume
you’re responsible
in the face
of the silent treatment--

But I’ll brush it off,
focus my attention elsewhere
& hope that, in time,
he comes around.

My ten-year-old son gave me the first line, and approves of the resulting poem, though says he thinks it’s rather sad. This is for Corey’s prompt to the Real Toads: ALL IN THE FAMILY