ghosts and angels

ghosts

The cold shivers like ghosts
haunting melody, piano,
keys tie together as if sewn by hand.

how did I wake up today?
solitude is lost like artless prose,
beauty refuses to acknowledge our arrival.

I can hear her sing, faintly,
Clair de Lune,
odeless words sing like old sea shanties.
In early hours I listen for her voice.

What beauty do I have to call to now?
an ode is cast for no arrival,
no hands to capture this melody.

Why is grace to write songs given,
only to be left remote, unknown?

The breeze shivers like angels
haunting refrain, guitar,
strings resigned to quiet peace;

a maid-in-waiting humming softly in the night.