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The Ghost of Dukinfield Cemetery

entry picture

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) ►

Comments

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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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