E Is For Ecto

Maud dreamed by the fire, her blue eyes half-closed, While a grey cat on a grey mat beside her reposed. Then she wakened and watched as the fast-falling snow Was whipped into drifts when the sad wind would blow. The moments that make up a life span are fleet, Passing by with the stealth of a kitten's soft feet. Since then, many winters this old earth has turned, And I can't even guess when the last embers burned. But where the hearth warmed, a computer now stands, And someone's been typing with very cold hands And piling spreadsheets on a table all day On the very same spot where a grey cat once lay. You're alone, so stop turning -- you won't find a trace Of the blue eyes and smile of a little girl's face; But when winds start moaning and driving the snow, Maud may send you a ghost-mail from long, long ago.