The Ghost of Dukinfield Cemetery

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Catching her tears in the breeze
From one row of headstones to the next
Some days you would see her ghost
Walking up and down
Like a private on patrol.

Entwined with the sun
Just before sunrise 
Creeps over the hill
Cascading into a silent film
As the shadows sank away

Repeating his name over
Like a broken tape machine 
Caught up in a tangle 
Of half forgotten prayers
In at least two different languages

Echoing in the wind
Butterfly shaped with regrets
In a tidal mystery of anger
If things had been
So very different 

Over skeletons of feelings
Before they turned
Into scraps of meanings
After the burnt out end of summer
Into a willow shaped autumn

Following him
To the grave
Within weeks 
Filled with nothing
But regret. 

◄ Summer will rise again

Collaborating In Memory (Remix) ►


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Jeff Dawson

Sat 26th Nov 2016 08:04

Great stuff Andy and thanx for your comment and support with Bolton Calling! cheers mate ?

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Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Sun 6th Nov 2016 01:38

Love it Andy! Many such spirits our graveyards walk!

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