The 100 Mile Hallway

I see a ghost standing At the end of the hallway. Or is it a person, I ask myself. A child or friend In fuzzy outline, An empty figure. Can anyone else see it? The ghostboy stares Through empty eyes, Blackened pits void of sight. Behind him lies an orange tabby Swatting at a ball of yarn And making colored banners. A festival of streaming ribbons. The past is gone, I murmur. A cloud of despair crosses the face So full of loss And longing For the world That forgot his name.