The ghost of a man woke up this morning.
His dreams passed through walls
As though the walls weren’t there.
And suddenly, the dreams weren’t there.
His songs moaned in the corridors.
Tuneless tunes that needed some loving care.
And then the tunes weren’t there.
Were they ever there?

The ghost of a man
Had a history, he was sure.
But it had flown out of the window,
The creaky window.
And now, it too, had gone.

Somewhere over there.


The memory of the ghost of a man
Shook himself.

A blast of air
Blew the creaky window shut.

He sniffed the smell of coffee.
Then danced like a Banshee.
And with some strange Alchemy
A body emerged into the morning.

With hands and feet
And the gift of Today.

It was tomorrow’s ghost.
Not yet a ghost.
Just a man for now.