Anodos7

30,153 poems read

Ghosts

Come down from your attic prison
And talk to me as a friend-
You did not die that fateful day
You just grew into another beauty,
Like a flower in a summer garden.
Walk with me silently through golden days,
When warm air is scented with honeysuckle;
Your eyes were as clear as the sky
Your words were a sacred music to me.
As we walked we slowly faded away,
Two ghosts as one in a world of memory.


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Ghosts