While sipping a port and lemon
with nanna soon after tea
my thoughts inhabited heaven;
the ghost? It might have been me.
Sudden sniff, her singular air:
phantom or evil maybe?
Looming long shadows, hidden fear;
the ghost? It may have been me.
Mulling over the evidence
interpreted candidly,
conceivable yet more than chance;
the ghost? Was probably me.
Conscious of a call of nature
light, up a full flight of stairs
a wee wraith spied from the future
fearfully whispering prayers.
As fast as legs could carry one
down, as fast as they could go;
she must have had such wicked fun?
Long jumps away from the foe.
Thus often as I close my eyes
through mind's eye reflection see
for every room and corner; spy,
the ghost? It must have been me!
May 2006
France
Because I look back far too often.
Gillian.E. Shaw
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/n-the-ghost-nanna-and-me/
