Seeing Ghosts.

Feather-light,
Shades of grey,
When they appear,
I've naught to say.

Waifs so thin,
Morose and sad,
And when they're gone,
I feel so glad.

Wisps of white,
Drifting round,
Silent movement,
They make no sound.

Ignoring them,
Is such a feat,
I never know,
Where we could meet.

These ghouls they come,
They go, they stay,
I cannot make,
Them go away.

No one sees them,
Only I,
There's only me,
To hear their sigh.

Their somber moods,
Their heartless groans,
Their creaks, their cries,
Heart-aching moans.

I hear them scream,
More every day,
I can't help wish,
They'd go away.