The Touch of a Ghost

You call my name with the warmth of a friend,

And I answer as a shattered window

Which a cold draft blows through in mid-winter.

My voice lost long ago in fall of snow.

You invite me, companion for a rave,

But my ears hear only the howl of upper air,

My eyes a haven for insomnia,

My heart an open grave, my sign: ‘Beware!’

And so shameful rings my silence in my ears,

Your joyful welcome floods me with mute tears.

_________

Copyright 2021 Jeffrey Merk