The night was morning at 3 am.
I roused fresh from dreams,
and the scatter cushion at my feet
that your ghostly hand tapped on me,
fell gently like a wake-up call.
And I didn’t need an ouija board
to sense your presence.
It has been a year and more
since you last spent a worldly
3 am with me. And you did not forget
your favourite cushion.
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NaPoWriMo - 26 April 2006
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