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Poem

For Eve Senn
 
You may have never believed in ghosts
Smart people never do,
Or certainly they never admit
To others that it is true.
But I can tell you of a ghost
That's known where ever you roam,
And that is the spirit that remains
When at last you leave your old home.
 
You'll think that when the door's been locked
And you've said your last farewell,
That the book is closed, the story done
There remains nothing else to tell.
But in the stillness of the night
You'll awake in your home that's new
And catch yourself turning, or walking or thinking
The way you used to do.

 
Then you'll remember the mantlepiece
Where the old clock used to fit,
And the sunny patch in the garden
Where the cat would always sit:
Or the sheltered spot where the bench was set
So you could take in the view,
And you will remember how things are not,
Today in your home that's new.
 
And should you ever return again
In spirit, or one day visit,
You won't find a nook that does not have
Some little memory in it.
The answer you see is in your mind,
The phantoms are lingering there,
Waiting for something to let them loose
And catch you unaware.
 
When you think there's nothing there!



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