The Ghost
The Ghost
She creeps in and out on the brink of consciousness
Slowly making her way to my bed side
I roll over never feeling her touch, lost in my own,
She lays by my side
She touches my forehead and my brows begin to furrow
Dreams are coming and she begins to burrow
Further into my mind, to see what she may find
A spirit thought dead she brings back to life
I toss and turn as the visions become vivid
A flowing white dress, a soft glowing smile,
But skin so cold so my heart grows mild.
A familiar face of someone long ago
Appearing before me but I can not go
Her gaze holds me captive as we begin to talk
She reaches for me to help me walk
But seeing her here, like this, has me weary
A love long ago once thought to be dreamy
Has shown itself once more not fearing
The consequences of life but trying to bring healing
I turn over to face her and I open my eyes
The room grows dark and then I realize
The ebony skin, the cat like eyes
Were all just a dream, to my demise.
Copyright © Stevenson Benoit | Year Posted 2007
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