The haunted hours, when midnight opens its doors
all the shadows rise from the graves beneath my skin
and every secret I once buried comes back to light
the ghosts of yesterday gather, like mourners dressed in grey
reciting all the promises, that time has swept away
I close my eyes, but I can still hear their voices
beyond the ever-fragile veils, of my restless soul
and when the dawn comes, they vanish with the night
leaving no footprints, just ashes in the light
©Ann Bagnall
