Thursday, December 21, 2006

uncertain ghosts

sitting in circles, isn't just the passage of time
isn't counting hours, degraded minutes, echoing seconds
waiting for shadows to find their proper place

we're bound by the years that enclose us
white wines at a proper chill, degrees regulated
done dancing with the ghosts on the stairs

are we friends, uncertain in our boundaries
grandmother's lace and old family silver
you were fond of root beer floats, once upon

i've given up my mysteries, sorted father's photos
they keep us young, daring and full of pride
i had a certain charm, you always said

we're still frightened by the darkness, children
stay within the magic of their dream, children
may grow older, tend to fade, but not away

and here we are, sitting in circles, waiting
for a sign, listening to the roses make their bloom
do you love your ghost, from so very long ago

i wait for footsteps before sleeping, for the
rustlings of the blind, make my midnight song
to please the spirits, and let me with some quiet

this awful hesitation, when i know what must be done
i've been no good at giving treasures, hoarded more
than my fair share, is that the secret gone unfound

my quiet days draw no applause, no curtains raised
no clever conversations in a ravished hush, knowing
whispers from some literary light, eyes closed, amused

oh, yes, i know the steps and where they'll lead,
and may even have the strength to close the door
you'll find a key beneath the tulip tree

use it well

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