by Nick Gisburne
I never knew her name; she never said
I found her, weeping, walking through a wall
She did not seem to know that she was dead
That no one else could see her shadow fall
The oldest heirlooms in the house, by far
The clocks were all she wanted to explore
Beneath them, scratched in anger, strange, bizarre
Were symbols I had never seen before
She pointed to their puzzles, then to me
And strode in circles, frantic in her fear
She could not say, but wanted me to see
That something else, another ghost, was near
I saw the spectre tear her soul apart
And felt it slip inside my helpless heart
