From my second hand bed
arose a shadow as I undressed,
it was of the former owner,
an old lady that had died there.
Never married
and the thought, even as a ghost,
of lying next to a man made her shy.
Spoke to the shadow,
which now sat on the bedpost, (ghosts are agile)
“Come back to bed” I’m alone too.
The shadow sighed a sound so full of sorrow
that it awoke my dog,
which came to the doorway looking worried.

In the living room
mother sat darning socks
and reading from a book that lay on the table,
only stopping to turn a page.
“It’s late mother.”
“Yes, got two pair left then I’ll call it a day.”
Falling asleep,
I sensed a draught as the timid shadow lifted the duvet
and slipped under it.
Dawn was cold
the fire had gone out,
the room smelled of dead ember
and I remembered that I have no dog
and mother has long since gone.