Anastasia
She came to me under tired eyelids.
I never actually met her.
Aunt Anastasia;
quite a common name
for an Irish dame.
She arrived with her long gray hair
flowing like silver moonlight.
She had nothing much to say
but she said it anyway.
Not a very eloquent
or beautiful ghost,
she probably have scared herself to death
pondering on God's wrath.
However she was my aunty
so I welcomed her politely.
As she departed
walking upon spectral clouds
into the midnight blue
she turned just once around
and said:
Who the fecking hell are you?
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