ectoplasmic love

Hear me, folks of love and loss,
of heartbreak and of pain,
as I watch you from my window,
when you’re dancing in the rain.

I have tiptoed in your footsteps
through midnight and through snow.
I whispered in your shadows, hoped
you’d hear but never know.

Yet, I never bridged the river
of my sorry flood of tears,
and wrote poetry in silence
of your silhouette for years.

Hear me, dancing angel,
in your yellow rain boots bright,
while I melt into the gray-scale
of this ectoplasmic night.

T. E. Pyrus

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