The Ghost of Montockshire

He got up from his muddy bed

to find his favourite flowers wilting next to him.

Taking a whiff of the midnight air

for once he could smell the moonlight so dim.

He stood up on his dead feet

to find his pain all gone

The silence groped him

now, that he was all alone.

Realising he didn’t blink for so long,

he did it… just to feel human.

He breathed once more

to colour his skin so ashen.

No longing could hurt him now.

No wishes he wanted fulfilled.

Absence meant nothing to him,

for every desire in his dead heart was killed.

He knew not where he belonged.

He had forgotten the desires he longed.

“Was he happy?” was a doubtful thought,

since sad he definitely was not!

The wind cooed in his ears

The wild dogs howled out to him

He smelt life around himself,

but no scent of the same within.

Roamed the town aimlessly

in the chilly air of Montockshire.

Not a shadow did he cast on earth,

nor did his eerie attire.

Breezing past a hobo asleep on the pavement,

disturbing not a soul dead or alive.

Peace engulfed his every step,

since no sound could he revive.

The moon silvered his way

to show him some light.

But failed to show a similar soul

in his world of black and white.

Squeezing through the walls and the locked gates,

he knew not what to believe in.

Sight, smell and touch betrayed his senses

He fought a silent battle he could not win.

The sun never showed up on his face

It is always night in his eyes

Without choices he walks the lanes of Montockshire,

waiting to touch the sunrise

The wind whispers to him throughout

Since his journey has no end

The world of black and white will colour his life

In this town of Montockshire his death he will spend.