Day 30 of 30 Poems/30 Days

‘Thirty Ghosts’

The children-ghosts
slept under my bed
like my boys.

In the night we moved,
like breathing ribs,
in unison.

But today they died,
one by one,
until I was the only one left.

I kissed their toes,
washed their chests –
my little boys,
my orphans.

I buried them,
under the sand,
below the horizon,
next to other bones.

I said: “God must want you,
to keep Him company,
to trace the sky-line
to laugh till the End.”

My boys are dead,
a long time gone,
just ghosts I dreamt up,
or memories of a lost song.

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