A Ghost of Doubt
By tigerlilly
At three in the morning, darkest hour… a doubt arises; and I have no power to quell the thought, rising cold and gray, that you have flown far away. Writhing... twisting in my head, phantom notions fill my soul with dread. Somehow I can't seem to feel you near my heart’s doorstep…lingering here. I pace frustration’s measured beat, wondering… if at all… we’ll meet? Or is this to be a barren night, no wings of love to speed it’s flight? But at last, your name appears… I feel so foolish, courting needless fears. The ghost of doubt is surely slain... 'till it rears it’s taunting head again.all comments/critiques welcomed Written January 18th, 2002 © on Jan 18 2002 01:01 AM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"At three in the morning, darkest hour…..."