Little Sad Ghost
There's a little sad ghost in my house tonight
I saw her move softly down the hall
To the room at the end where love lies dead
And her lover lies there not at all.
She turns back the covers of her queen sized bed
And climbs between the cold wintry sheets
Naked and alone she turns out the light
Her pillow held tight in defeat.
Sleep eludes her through the night
And damp is the pillow where she cried
For the passion's death in her marriage bed
And the woman in her who died.
Poem by Carol Barton
Copyright ~ 2003 Carol Barton


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