A Ghosts Final Hour

It is the stars that will cry at this hour, here I am, pouring my heart out. Brilliant, is the perfect watch tower, with a heavy heart, I do doubt. Here I am, pouring my heart out, to this world, just a ghost. With a heavy heart, I do doubt, an unseen life, leaning against the post. To this world, just a ghost, unconsciously, rising above the flame. An unseen life, leaning against the post, as a picture, without a picture frame. Unconsciously, rising above the flame, all my works here, done in the past. As a picture, without a picture frame, the memories of my life, will outlast. All my works here, done in the past, brilliant, is the perfect watch tower. The memories of my life, will outlast, I shall be remembered, in my final hour. ***For Paula Swanson's Pantoum contest.***