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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:12:56 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 173854
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Ghost
[time] => 2012-09-20 17:18:08
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The grandfather clock chimes for the midnight hour In every boom, holds such beautiful power The broken blinds lay haphazardly drawn Broken rays symbolising it’s almost dawn Fog creates such mystique in the air And in the mist particles, is that the shining of hair? Is that the faint outline of a pale white corset? I turn away, but I cannot forget The hair is raised on the back of my neck As I feel lips brush my cheek in a chilling peck I feel eyes boring themselves deep into mine But when I turn, startled, around, there’s still nothing to find A faint quiver in the wind, and a whisper from the long forgotten ‘My essence remains, even whilst my bones lay rotten’ I’m shaking, too scared to run, too scared to stay Quickly, begging, I start to pray I open my eyes, with the start of a new day In the first rays of sun, I see her quite clear A woman in white, blonde hair, shedding a single tear But now she is gone, And my memory is all the evidence that she was ever here Till the morrows night, when she will return And here I will sit trying to discern For I know that from her I have a lesson to learn [comments] => 1 [counter] => 180 [topic] => 49 [informant] => damian [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => mystical )
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