While sipping a port and lemon <br />with nanna soon after tea <br />my thoughts inhabited heaven; <br />the ghost? It might have been me. <br /> <br />Sudden sniff, her singular air: <br />phantom or evil maybe? <br />Looming long shadows, hidden fear; <br />the ghost? It may have been me. <br /> <br />Mulling over the evidence <br />interpreted candidly, <br />conceivable yet more than chance; <br />the ghost? Was probably me. <br /> <br />Conscious of a call of nature <br />light, up a full flight of stairs <br />a wee wraith spied from the future <br />fearfully whispering prayers. <br /> <br />As fast as legs could carry one <br />down, as fast as they could go; <br />she must have had such wicked fun? <br />Long jumps away from the foe. <br /> <br />Thus often as I close my eyes <br />through mind's eye reflection see <br />for every room and corner; spy, <br />the ghost? It must have been me! <br /> <br />May 2006 <br />France <br /> <br />Because I look back far too often.<br /><br />Gillian.E. Shaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/n-the-ghost-nanna-and-me/
