The Ghost

Oh trepid specter in the night Making bold thy cursed plight. What zealotry provokes thy mournful cry Allowing thee to linger nigh? Did Heaven bar thee entry first? Did Hell itself not quench thy thirst? And why this fuss and sordid gloom To foreshadow some impending doom? Did unrequited love convey despair? Was the deprivation too much to bear? Did thou stumble at Heaven's door Causing thee... to tread my floor? Was some crucial task left undone To hinder the setting of thy sun? Was true-love's knot unlaced in death Which took from thee... thy final breath? I know not the story of thy worth That tasks a Ghost to walk this Earth. But if such a state is now to be... Let's hope it's not eternity. Oh trepid specter in the night Making bold thy cursed plight. What zealotry provokes thy mournful cry Allowing thee to linger nigh? The End