Where Ghosts In The Corners Cry Poem by Peter S. Quinn

As worship moods come and go
In the days of wintry whim
And each footstep has its glow
That meets day and the dim
The appetite of love found
Wanting of future from its past
That in forever comes around
When everything else is lost

The get-away to find all new
Of precious moments once tried
Going complete and through
When curtains have fallen inside
Of love that had never come
To reality and made it complete
Like the cries fluttered from
The whole past and Futures Street

As love cannot give anything
Where ghosts in the corners cry
With much of its assassin's bluffing
In disposition of its low and high
Jackpots are steadily on writing
In hooks of lives own castaway
With promises to riches abiding
Till the night becomes clear as day