Flynn

The old theatre is haunted 
With worn velvets notes of melody
And in its tarnished brass door handles
Trombone ghosts can play
The lights flick on and off in hues only known by moonlight
And raining down like rose petals are the pattered chords of memory

 

ZoeBee

VT

19 years old

More by ZoeBee

  • 1893

    It was just a fluke that I happened to see

    The ghost of a girl in 1893

    I didn't think much of her, tried to ignore

    But then she came 'round in 1894

    A spirit was not something that I had wanted

  • Papercuts

    Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

    That I was ink and glue and wax but mostly, I was papercuts

    Did you know that, when you read me, I am made of memories