Ghost

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In the muted glow of the moonlit night,
Through the windows shone a glimmer of light.
Blowing the drapes like the cloak of death,
The whispering wind solemnly wept.

As he stood by the bed and gazed at the figure,
That lay on the bed, crumpled like a paper.
Was it moments or ages he couldn’t say,
How long he had been gazing at the man in that way.

Like the candle flame flickering in the wind,
A memory, on the edge was hovering within.
Of pain n despair and utter helplessness,
Of something dark n heavy, full of restlessness.

But vague it was like his own self,
Undefined, shapeless but still itself.
There was a pull binding him to the man,
Slowly fading and fading, out it went.

He shimmered in the moonlight for a furtive moment,
As memories flashed by his eyes like a comet.
Familiar all that a lifetime ago just was,
Felt as though like a strangers dream it was.

And like a dream, by the bed he was floating,
Yet untouched by the wind which was blowing.
He felt no cold no breeze no pain,
As if like a little child ,before sleep, tucked in.

As his attention and existence both seemed to wane,
A single feeling that hung back was pain.
In the eerie glow of the moon could be seen,
On the mantle,an empty bottle of pills and a crumpled note within.

And in the muted glow of the moonlit night,
Through the windows shone a glimmer of light.
Blowing the drapes like the cloak of death,
The whispering wind solemnly wept.

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