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Longing of a ghost


You danced on the floorboards
They creaked as you moved above weightlessly.
I waited on the stair below the bedroom
My heart racing
Blood surging in pulsating blurs
of unstoppable breathing.

The door opened

You rushed me
I was frozen in time
Nothing was there
But an invisible
Presence before me

As I slept another hour beyond 1AM
You wrapped your arms around me
Over and over again
Like the flickering of movie film
Stuck on one scene.

You repeated this embrace
Beside the partition.

You moved beside
The antique bed
Knotted wood
A wedding gift
From ancient days
Different traditions.

Quieter spaces

You hair twirled yellow and white
In sparkling angelic lights
A shimmer of a golden dream
With river streaming
And smoke like bursting teeming
Horses
Vanishing
Through raised dust.

Your trace still bundled within my chest
You stood before me
In front of the house
And in the garden of mud
And sweet peas

And when you sang
All the children that played in puddles
Splashing

Your song was the only music
I could hear
No sound at all
Just your voice

Unfamiliar lines
Longing of a ghost

Your hand
Would touch my hand
While I write poetry
At my desk
You would stand next to me
In front of art
Displays

I would feel you
Like other countries far away
And architecture that had
History

You are the ghost
You are the spectre

You are my lost friend
You are with me again.


Francis A Willey



Longing of a Ghost
Poetry
2001

(Written between 1995-2001)
after contemplating 6 years of ghost
visitations.