Brooklyn’s Ghost

The cool clammy hall of the Dorchester tenement

Welcomed my every visit for it summoned me.

Alluring was the whisper that

Echoed off the rusted walls, “this is where you belong”.

My ghost called for me commonly at the oddest hours, but

I complied; being the presences was regal.

In veracity my ghost was miles away; yet in essences close enough to

Shake my core.

My ghost has since passed on beyond the clammy halls of the

Dorchester tenement leaving only the memories of soiled floors,

Cool embracing’s, and a reluctant farewell.


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