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At
night she would be seen
A
pale figure in the darkness
A
wooden cross with roses was her marker
The
figure wore a dull white gown of elegance
Her
wings, shredded and lifeless
No
longer did they hold the vitality of youth
No
moonbeams gave her light
She
was lonely now, as she had been in life
The
roses left behind from her sister
One
who had already forgotten her and moved on
A
silent tear slid down her face
She
said a silent prayer to herself
As
the sunrise came she faded into the mist
Like
the ghost, that she was meant to be.
©2005
Courtney Brotzman
  
Painting
Ghost by Jacqueline Collen-Tarrolly
Her and terms of use can be found at
http://www.toadstoolfarmart.com
The
content of this site is ©2005 Courtney
Graphics by Swept Away Graphics.
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