Old Pine Street Church Graveyard, Philadelphia
There
she is,
haunting me
wearing her face
stepping silently
over the cobblestones,
to fill a void in the air
with an electrical charge—a
gleam, a shiver, that slight susurrus
of swirling air–sojourning spirit, stay
that I may look upon her face once more,
see her clothed in her favorite gown,
pretend that what is lost, was not.
But she moves into the mist,
dissolves and fades away.
My dreams vanish, too,
forevermore
light is dimmed,
she is
gone.
I’ve channeled my inner nineteenth-century Gothic writer for this double etheree for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday! We were to use synonyms for ghost and hollow.
