I see a ghost trailing by.
Its wings are black,
Its face is white.
With eyes that carry a destructing light,
It takes off mightily into the night.
And I see its bones peeking out from its clothes.
It’s beautiful, the magic in its eyes.
It’s free at last from a world of ice.
It’s free to go anywhere it likes.
And under the night, behind that tree,
A silvery lake reflects the gleam,
Of a ghost that flies for it is free,
Mighty, magical, the ghost of me.
Copyright by Delilah Das
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