Eerie Sundays

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Eerie Sundays

Autumn, Sunday teatime
The veil is wearing thin
Scents from the past
Slowly meander in

Stealthily they creep
Upon the fragile air
I look around and half expect
To see you standing there

Among the shadows and dying light
In the place that was your home
A sense of presence fills the air
A touch so slight and cold

They say I ought to be afraid
Having spirits in my home
But I quite like these eerie Sundays
When you stop by to say hello

copyright carol ann lewis 2020




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