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A Ghost...







There's a ghost
in the old house
on Elm street.
He'd march down
the grand stairway
every night
at 3 A.M.,
invisible boots
pounding tired wood.
He was like
a wind from the North--
misty and cold
with a bellow
that could shake
the old timbers.
And a pall hovered
about him composed of
deep and endless grief,
as if the blackest midnight
had dyed his marrow
and dipped greedily
into his soul.
He's bound to that house,
to that long ago existence,
wearing the past
like a morgue sheet,
refusing to
give up the ghost
for the promised
green pastures.
He could not have
lived happily
for he found no
peace and freedom in death.
Perhaps he thrived on agony
in life and couldn't
let it go.
Or maybe he loved
no one,
and let no one
love him in return,
and now he's forever
locked in despair.
Of this respect,
even the living can
find themselves bound
until they're eternally
haunted by unhappiness.
But those who still
draw breath can
learn from him,
knowing they
have a chance
to make the most of life...
before it's too late.






"A Ghost," written and designed by Bobette Bryan, 2002






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Photo: By Bobette Bryan
Music: "Turn Back the Hands of Time"