Michael Fantina
A ghost
Her silken gown was dyed pale jade.
She swayed like some tall limber reed,
Her hair one long and trailing braid,
Like rubies from a pirate's raid.
Her steel-grey eyes I could not read.
Some unseen piper reed-pipes played.
Her lips were parched, in desperate need
Of kisses that were long delayed,
Of soft caresses never made,
Of love spilt like a vanished mead.
Her icy touch to me relayed
A loneliness, so like a greed
For love and lovers long since laid
In splendid tombs where she once prayed
To wish them mercy and Godspeed.
Page(s) 39
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