Sunday, 7 February 2010


There’s a ghost in the corner of my room.
He stands by the wall,
Quiet and sedate.
Just a whisper of colour,
A flicker of light
In the dark.

He never quite speaks -
Just whispers half faintly,
And the rustle of time
Lulls me softly to sleep.

There’s a shade in the shadows,
At the edge of my sight.
He’s a blur in the day
And a twist in the night.
And I never know whether
To say hello or goodbye
Each time I see him

Or whether to cry?

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