A familiar place,
At a loss,

For words,
For feelings,

No sound, but the rattle of empty cups,
And the whistle of the breeze through me,

The words appear as if by magic,
Hands that lack substance,
Tap, tap, tapping,

A ghost that writes on this dark night,
Feeling nothing right,

A leper made on this dark night,
Numbness now, no more light.