5 July 2012
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.
Seeing Ghosts. • Opuss № I