(004) William The Ghost Meets The Early Light Of Spring Poem by Leeanndra O'Lear

(004) William The Ghost Meets The Early Light Of Spring

Rating: 2.5


He watches his great grandson sleep. A gleam
of tenderness bestirs his blue-grey eyes;
a guardian, his spectral self esteem
is strengthened by enduring family ties.

He rises from the chair. A looking glass
above the bed ignores him. Nothing new.
His long black coat and top hat seldom pass
for fashionable garb these days. Boo hoo.

The house is morning silent yet the sound
of robins beckon from the elms outside.
Come, come. His Swansea heart begins to pound.
Adventure from your post. He starts to glide.

Descend the staircase. Just a few feet more.
Now cross the sunlit hall. Oh, lovely day.
At last, he passes through the bolted door
and exits to the open-air bouquet.

Deep breaths. Blue sky. What daydream can compare
to blooming buds and honeysuckle scents?
(He much prefers the warmth of Springtime's flare
to chilly tales of Otherworld suspense) .

The tulips...ah, the tulips...rise ablaze
in lemon-yellows... ripened-reds...and pinks,
and bask in his appreciative gaze.
The Welshman has a tasteful eye. He winks.

A butterfly appears. It flutters through
the vision of his reawakened head.
He humphs, amused. What prophet ever knew
such playful perks were granted to the dead?

And then, at once, he stops. The sudden rise
of laughter strikes a loyal chord within;
with focus set he whispers his goodbyes
and wanders back to guard his risen kin.

The robins watch him go. They start to sing
a song which mourns the loss of welcomed guests;
then hopping forth, they heed the rites of Spring
by dutifully returning to their nests.

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