Hey, here's one I've been working on for a bit. I like it, but I can't seem to come up with a good ending. Oh, well, I've given up for the moment. Let me know if you think the ending is too abrupt. And I'd entertain any suggestions. So this one is about reenacting. I wrote it right after, and about, Delgroso last year.

(Titleless)

A fire burns brightly in the darkness
It’s flames dance and leap in the still, warm air
The serene reddish glow illuminates the night
Casts its oddly comforting glow on every watching face
While in the sky above a full moon watches
Half-shrouded by cloud, it hangs alone in the infinite blackness
A light fog rolls in, blurring all lines with cottony softness
At a distance tiny points of light flicker gently
Candle-lit lanterns shining through the fog
Over a field of triangle tents
Common only long ago
The sound of gentle banjo notes drifts lightly over the trees
Then slipping through the fog, a figure
Half-seen through the dim light and cloudy air
Dressed in gray, whose time has long since come
A walking ghost, perhaps, some restless spirit
Or a known friend dreaming of other times and other days
When glory as attainable
And some ideas were worth the price of death
Of great men and great times, the likes of which will never again walk this earth
But the night is cloaked in shadows
Smoke and fog combine until nothing here is sure
And all that was presses on the thin, silken veil of reality
Until the past seems so close
Close enough to touch
Where we all are gathered old souls with young hearts
Trying to find that which we never knew
Stealing moments from across the years
Sitting in the shadows of these great canvas tents
Surrounded by smoke and glowing flame
Caught in the foggy glare of a moon-lit field
Waiting in silence for the fate of the morning
The clouded moon drifting above
On such nights still ghosts walk
And we among them

Until we close our eyes to dream