Ghosts 

The noise of the ghosts of what we were 

arise in the night to torment me 

Memories creep through the darkness 

but elude me 

I can listen to their steps drawing close 

but find myself unable to reach any of them  

the hours go by and I travel a maze 
 

Following blindly the echoes of what we were 

I never get tired, just disappointed 

for each time I hear something 

I tiptoe to get nearer 

I even crawl with expectation brimming 

but always fail to accomplish  

any contact with you 

of course, it’s not really you

it’s only a phantom 

the ghosts of what we were 

the madness of my desire 

cause you’re a thousand miles away 

and unaware of my nightmares 

Then the light slowly appears 

and the noises start to die 

a new day shines upon the land    

and I shall wait to chase you again 

endure another spin, another day  

until once more arrives the shadow realm.

Ulysses A.