423 – The Ghost That Lives

Poem number 423

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The Ghost That Lives

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I saw her standing on the stair, I think I caught her unaware

Her profile stark against the light

Her eyes still lost in thoughts of night

Just standing there upon the stair

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Her wrinkled hands and parchment brow, her hair as thin as dust

Her mind is neither here nor there

Just standing there upon the stair

Too old for thoughts of love or lust

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She sees me now and meets my eye, a flicker in the deep

Just standing there upon the stair

Her sanity as light as air

With open eyes, yet still asleep

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Just standing there upon the stair, now once again she’s unaware

She’s gone where all the goblins go

All those years, now nought to show

She is serene, but I despair.

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