The Ghost Of You Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

The shadows shifted on the wall
in the fade of the afternoon.
The heat turned time into a trawl
and my flesh into a cocoon.

The pearls circled my neck around.
The smell of rain flooded the room.
Woodlarks warbled a lu-lu-lu sound,
and honeysuckles were in bloom.

You left this morning on the train,
the scent of longing left behind.
A parting kiss and lipstick stain
are remnants and traces that bind.

I wait by the heirloom windows
that have seen you a thousand times
and drown myself in the pillows
that have cradled our carnal crimes.

I close my eyes and remember
the press of your lips to my skin.
The ghost of you is so tender,
I want to be haunted again.