The Ghost

Here’s a toast to the ghost
And all that it use to be
Whispers between wine sips
With pretty painted lips
The ghost now is me

Look behind the dark mind
And all that it use to hold
Scents of a Spring time
A season in its prime
While flowers unfold

Can these eyes look ahead
Go now and bury the dead
Can no longer find me
Here to unwind me
The ghost now is free

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