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Ghost in This House ( A Rewrite)

by Tony Whitaker

I sit, in a trance,
I see the snow
Falling like sifted flour;
Serene scenes I relive, again
The “what” of you and me

I see you standing there
Awash in white satin at aisle's end
Strolling between filled gilded pews
Afloat amid warm cotton clouds
In some celestial chapel

A faceless priest gives witness
Our eyes lock in mocked silence
We exchange muffled vows
Only He can hear

But then, as always,
I awake

No matrimonial victory march
I sense again these
Shackled feet and hands
Amid memories which seem to shuffle
Down some damp and darkened byway

I feel the tears and years
Beneath this withered rind
But I shall always cherish
These scars, which outgrew you
And the brilliance of the ore
Which we once mined



Author's Note: A major rewrite to capture a moment

Posted on 04/29/2011
Copyright © 2021 Tony Whitaker

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/29/11 at 10:29 PM

It's pretty damn amazing.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 05/12/11 at 12:11 AM

Definitely captures that haunted effect. Even nightmarish, but not without beauty also. I don't recall the earlier version, but this one's just fine Tony.

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