In the lonesome backwoods behind our vintage house

We buried our souls deep just to have ghosts around.

But phantoms, they startle, howl, scream and weep

Way past their bedtimes because the night doesn’t seep

Into their cavities where they safeguard our souls,

Still glowering in caskets of gold.

And that’s what they’ll ever be-

Fossilized memories,

Vessels of love...

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