The Ghost
Once we were orphans
Nationless
And now once again the voice has stopped
Just echos
The haunts just rooms
The rooms just space
Love
Thin, palsied
As fragile as a newborn
Has met its end
The depression of cotton,
The hum of the coffee machine
The scrape of a chair
Mourning has taken me
The vapour of breath
Erased
Before
Now
Tomorrow
And disappeared