Ghosts of My Regret
Ghosts of My Regret
Erie shadows roam the night and come calmly calling to my door.
On winds they whisper their unearthly plight,
humbly begging for entry or perhaps... something else...
perhaps ...something more.
I sit stone silent and hear the fingers scratch at glass
and wood upon every visit of the breeze.
There pretending the hours away as candlelight dances
and jumps from page to page while I read.
The candle frequent gutters low with my haste filled disdain.
A bit of chill seeps in, Finding vacant track through crevice and crack.
They come to torment a restless mind, these ghosts of my regret.
Copyright © Jesse Zerlaut | Year Posted 2016
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