GHOST

nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

The fingers of night
Fold boldly over day
As the long shadows fall
The tall trees sway.

The room is held tight
By invisible hands
The air struggles to breathe
As the white ghost stands.

Alone and afraid
In bed sat tight
As coldness descends
The vision burns bright.

From landing to stair
Slowly to glide
To bedside horror
Eyes open wide.

What message to bring
Or words to describe
This visitation
Now at my side.

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Comments +

Comments1

  • Bobby O

    It’s probably just me but I read it twice and some if the symbolic nature excised me.



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