July 29, 2014

Ghost Lover


Sometimes 
in pale moonlight,
I see you walk,
my window open
in the dark,
just so you
can leave your mark.
Once I glimpsed you 
on the stair,
I'm always thinking
you'll still be there,
your voice echoing
down the hall,
perhaps you are here, 
after all.
The rising moon
shows the way,
down the ragged path
to yesterday.