The night is full of ghosts

The night is full of ghosts: and the quiet pain
Of half forgotten dreams carry me
Down the years to reminisce, and see
Those familiar faces who once again
Will haunt me at the midnight hour, with sighs
Of silent tears and whispers of regret
For all the times we loved and shared, and yet
I see them still, long lost to mournful skies.
For as the forest hides the lonesome tree,
With all its leaves left withered on the ground,
And boughs now bare when winters snows are shed,
I only know of hope and memories,
For everything in life that’s lost and found
Bears witness to the living and the dead.

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