Rita Janice Traub Poet Diamante

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.

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