A poem for the ghost in my house

There’s a shadow in the edge of vision

A movement out the corner of my sight

A fleeting shape of misty darkness

Could be a hair floating silhouetted against the light.

Is it a flickering eyelash caught on a bit of sleep?

Or a smudge on my low-set bifocal lens?

My bangs overhanging my tired and ageing eyes, 

Or a trick of my overactive imagination?

Appearing and vanishing, avoiding direct looks,

I wait to feel a change in the temperature, 

To sense a chill hand on my bared skin,

Expecting a feeling of dread, or a whispered word–

But with each glimpse of Someone I feel instead:




Nothing to fear from the ghost in my house, 

This entity sharing our home.

I suspect the spirit simply wishes to be noticed,

So it, too, will feel less alone.


2 thoughts on “A poem for the ghost in my house

  1. tarafoxhall says:

    Very cool poem:)


    Liked by 1 person

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