Mist Of The Spirits Poem by Sharon Ashworth

You can hear the whispers as the wind blows through the trees
music softly playing on a night's gentle breeze
the spirits of the past that has been long since gone
comes back to haunt us, chanting a song
we lay quietly in wait to summon them up again
the mists of the spirits float down on us to begin
hauntingly sad the spirits cry out to be heard
entranced we cannot speak, not even a word
when the song is through and the spirits surround
the mist grows heavy as they return to the ground
for the morning breaks its early dawn
looking around us, the spirits are gone
but come nightfall the mist will rise and the spirits will take flight
and they will again sing and dance all through the night