Ghost Story

Ghost Story

It still lives, the  fog under the tree, the slippery light
From the observatory, the verdigris bell
Hangs there, a question in the day, a sharp pain
In the night when stars change their chambers
Ruthless as disloyal lovers, lost lovers, lost.

He had to do it, didn’t he? There was a path
Full of black syrupy endlessness, a flash from a  car
The only illumination, no valley was as tenebrous
As the one carved from the bone of his mind
Violets grow here in April
This is the very place
This is where it happens.


Veronica Aldous 2016 all rights reserved




About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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3 Responses to Ghost Story

  1. John Looker says:

    Well done Veronica! These lines are wonderfully atmospheric and grip the reader. I’m puzzled hat no one else seems to have clicked their like button yet – it must be an accident of timing I suppose. All the best
    , John

    Liked by 1 person

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