The moment they'd gone she could feel it
Although there was nobody there,
The presence of someone beside her,
And a very slight chill in the air
She made up her mind to look further
To see what might perturb her most,
She dared not discuss with the others
The chances of having a ghost
They'd probably think her neurotic
And say it was all in her mind
How could she ever convince them?
That she knew it was now't of the kind
She knew there was no one before them
Who'd suffered a tale of woe,
But there had to be some kind of story
That told what she wanted to know
A medium was sought for the answer
It was now that the story converged,
Three names, a Victorian piano
And a family history emerged
A great love of books and of music,
Of honeysuckle outside the door,
Hearing a child playing Green sleeves
And a house with no ladder before!
Well her house, she knew was converted
From a bungalow ten years or more
And her sister had learned the recorder,
T'was Green sleeves she'd played to the core.
She traced the three names she was given
And compiled a family tree,
But there was no Victorian piano
She didn't know where that could be.
Then what she discovered amazed her,
The piano was there, unbeknown,
At some stage made into a cupboard
Which she'd bought and stood in her home.
The ghost, Maud, had loved her piano
So much that she'd followed it here
To relive her great love of music
On the piano that she'd held so dear
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moved in...various odors would come and go, like roses,perfume,
after shave,toast, steak. Sometimes it would follow you outside.
The odors left after a year or two. Now I can feel light touches
on my calve and arm.
Great story poem!
Deborah
Donna
Sweet essence of honeysuckle. The ghost entranced
with the music she loved. The piano she cherished.
Love this poem Ruan.
Lady Mary Ann
I myself among the antiques and collectibles
I have house a few that make their presence
known... One particular soul her perfume is
quite strong :)
Great tale my dear Ruan
Love and Light
Lily
budd