A few small things.
————
Lost and Found
The stars are dropping from the blacker sky
I see no wonder by my whiter eye
The wires are bursting from the phone
I do not talk, they will only drone
The birds are leaving the winterly trees
I stare at the ground and keen on my knees
The air is all cold and my brain is a sieve
I lost all my love, what reason to live?
————
Solitary Things
Sitting quiet at a picture-show
The chair next-door is cold and clear
As sighs of wind against the glass
A sibilant sound that stirs the cat
From slumber on a winter’s day.
I really think I cannot say
Which is the worser end:
A lonely chair at the picture-show
Or a sigh that gets lost on the wind.
————
The Ghost-girl
The ghost-girl inhabits a room in the attic
of a lonelier house
in the fashionable part of the town,
where she is singing the songs
of a goldener age,
wearing a blue-and-white crown.
The people suppose the songs are the sighs
of the wind that blows by through the trees,
or else the sound of the passerine birds
as they whisper all night
in the breeze.