When you became a ghost, you
Did not haunt those you’d been close to
But you hung around the pigeons
Let the sun in
Let the wind blow through
Observing men and women
Children dressed in crème and lemon
Couples strolling afterhours
Wilting flowers
Loves that should have been
There had been some sort of error
An oversight, you guess:
But you hadn’t been allowed
Up amongst the choiring crowd
With the Cloud of Witnesses
The ground was parched; the air, dry
When you woke under a sharp sky
With the stillness of a watched clock
And the slow shock
Of a long goodbye
Free of all desire and doubt
All credibility and clout
Breathless and insubstantial
As a man’s soul
When he’s been burned-out
When you became a ghost, you
Did not haunt those you’d been close to
But you hung around the pigeons
Let the sun in
Let the wind blow--
Let the sun in
Let the wind blow through
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