Another ghost.
Another mocking toast,
How the hands of the clock do turn,
Never to return
To the point before
That particular door
Was unhinged by me.
I see
A procession of sweet ghouls
That call on fools
To follow
Them to the place where the hollow
Slink
Along
And The song of love is told
By the chink
Of gold.
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K Morris - Poet 
Great penned words.
Thank you for your kind words. Kevin
Welcome Kevin