The Ghost Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE GHOST

In the light brown parlor, a breeze came in
Over a stony casement, quelling the din
Of dreadful moans which, rising from the mead
Petitioned to the sky where the moon did bleed.

And there, by and by, into my open eyes
She appeared, that woman, who I knew long ago
Floating as a shadow through the curtained window
Casting dusty glances which flittered like flies.

And she took my soul into a soulless loom
Where no hope decried my funeral gloom
Where now I reside in a casket of black.
Underneath the frozen soil
I abide with no grace in my life of toil
Beneath buds which never bloom
With no way to come back.

John Lars Zwerenz

© 2023 From The Velvet Pen
Publisher: Green Frog Books