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Rated: E · Poetry · Supernatural · #1498099
A poem about the afterlife, and how being a ghost may not be so lonely...
Ghost feet on marble floor.
Ballet in the ballroom
To the heart-shaped organ,
Pipes like God’s pencils.

They live on in their footwork,
A storm of ghost feet,
Pale, white, cold.

Their laughter echoes
Like a haunted labyrinth
And every dark corner has its place,
Just like their swirling ghost feet.

They’re invisible and everlasting
But the ballroom is a safe haven,
And silence never threatens
As the heart-shaped organ plays forever on.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1498099-Ghost-Feet