The Ghosts

The bars, the windows, The shadows, the symbols. The nights, the bed— I held, you read. The tenderness, the voice, I never understood; you had no choice. The concrete vision, an impossible dream— I needed to escape—I lied, I schemed. The fence, I jumped, An asphalt dance, the midnight thump. The chances I blew, too many mistakes, One final shot—so close, the gates. I hold their hands, so precious— The ghosts.