Doubt

A ghost appeared in my bed one night

The moon hovering, pulsing, watching, white as can be

I met her eyes in a hollow trance

She whispered in my ear, 

Her voice harmonising with the moan of wind

That I was special in this world 

She played picture shows of things I didn’t understand

That this would give me guidance 

That this was my time 

She wrapped herself in my white sheets, like any decent ghost should

And disappeared into the darkness 

The same darkness to which

I whispered 

that she

had the wrong person