(Ghost-Story)
Out of the storm that muffles shining night
Flash roses ghastly-sweet,
And lilies far too pale.
There is a pang of livid light,
A terror of familiarity,
I see a dripping swirl of leaves and petals
That I once tended happily,
Borders of flattened, frightened little things,
And writhing paths I surely walked in that other life—
Day?
My specter-garden beckons to me,
Gibbers horribly—
And vanishes!
Photo: Denby Jorgensen
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