Ghosts of Souls

Always, some thing gazed upon me
Like a throne room king
doling out corrective measures
with no graceful reserve.

Now. In Solitude. A measured peace.
Footsteps echo in recesses.
Soft, billowy figures. Promises.
Leave. Leaving. Left. Imminent.

Love sits with me. (You Thorn)
And mocks my moves.
Carrying on with stones. Ghosts of Souls.
Footfalls that rattle away into the distance.

Spectors! Take with you, Hope.
Let Love be bound to you - and go!
And finally, unattended, lay desire down.
I'll wait for leaded lid to close my days.

Shelley Rae Bell

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