Séance of One

They all showed up, to my surprise,

I’d hoped they might, amid my cries.

To raise the dead, disturb their sleep,

A cause to rise, to prowl, to creep.

A séance of one, left room to spare,

 I hoped they’d come and take a chair.

To pay a visit, to stop and chat,

To drop on by, and chew the fat.

The room grew cold, the rafters shook,

I shut my eyes, afraid to look.

A flash of light, a deafening roar,

And all at once, I hit the floor.

Then there they were, a sittin’ there,

As big as life, without a care.

My mom and dad, and sister too,

Oh what a feat, oh what a coup!

 

They said don’t fear, death’s not the end,

For time’s not straight, but tends to bend.

We’ll see you on the other side,

So until then, enjoy the ride.

I later awoke, slumped in a chair,

The family gone, nobody there.

I'll live to keep their ethereal creed,

I’ll enjoy the ride, oh yes indeed.  

--Ken Ferguson--

Artista di Parole