A Ghost Story

A Ghost Story

I float
I drift
The air grows frigid as I pass

I groan
I shriek
The passersby grow pale as glass

A child
May see
But is too young to understand

I yearn
I mourn
There’s so much more that I had planned

The world
Is dim
The light is fading from my eyes

The warp
The weft
The weaver spins across the skies

I hear
My love
I try to speak but disconnect

I lived
I died
There’s nothing left to resurrect