Where are you now? I’m at the window
Knocking and calling, have you left the house?
Have you left it hollow, and now without you
Will it start to crumble down into the ground?
Have I become a bean sí, and omen of death?
Have I come from the woods to warn you
With a scream? And If I cannot reach you,
Must I come in a dream?
I warn you now, leave me not here
I beg that you will ignore not my plea
The faery women, bean sí, not as we seem
I’m the coming of death for you and for me.
YOU ARE READING
superstition
Poetry"Is this what it is like to be a ghost? Have I found out so soon?..."
