The ghosts in the wind

The wind howls and calls outside

Like the ghosts of those who had occupied

Here and through debt or through death

Were moved away or tragically had died.

And to this house their sad spirits now

Are drawn like sand onto the beach,

Though the light and inside warmth

Are shut out and now long out of reach.

Mourning lost loves, or lost in this world

They cry and howl like the destitute poor

They rush through the trees in the garden

Shut out for evermore.

Though sometimes a window is open

Or a breeze invites itself through the door

And the landlord shuts off the eager draft

Shut out for evermore.

Moan up the walls and cry under the eaves

Lay low and then rise up and roar

Move and push on the hinges and latches

Shut out for evermore.

Shut out for evermore.


Copyright © 2017 Grant Fenton – All Rights Reserved





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