The Ghost Of Roderow Hegg Poem by Clive Culverhouse

He died in a sudden
in a world untamed
and a burden
to his own flailing calmness
yet nevertheless
Hegg was dead

dead for her and for her
the earth, kingdoms, seas
and all under
no more was her Roderow
and though
there somewhere

both, and at night both flew
the streets of the town
heard of the two
singing songs around headstones
to tempt bones
free, they flee

fun, they had fun
and play, Hegg still played
alone never done
though she felt him around
that creaking sound
floorboard chords

his beloved now sat, left alone
lost while Roderow troubled
ornaments at home
trying to get her attention
or something
she could feel

so through age and through love
sweet candle, sweet flame they were
though they'd played in their frolic
but he was the witch, not her