she puts in her wardrobe her invisible crown
half dressed she sits on the left side of her bed
a zahir although always present, in an instance spreads.
It emerges when her scent is mixed with her sorrows
it turns into ghost questioning for her tomorrows
it scares her not, since it’s a shadow she already knows
it gives her in a way her daily attention doze.
A gentleman would care for a lady until her he gains
but the ghost wanted nothing, only to know her pains
he would float in the room until she wants to sleep
until she falls tired knowing a ghost all her secrets keeps.
And each morning as the dawn is approaching
not to give up and start again she is her self coaching
then she realises a ghost is only an imaginary friend
and a ghost have no firm body for our face all in tears to bend.