The Dead Speak

'The dead speak to me when it's quiet'
'I just listen to them now and don't fight'
'I just close my eyes and the whispering starts'
'I don't always get it altogether sometimes just part'

We didn't believe him as he was old and forgetful
So we left him alone with his whispering to fulfill
The muttering he heard at night time
Until one day we were called in his death rhythm

He didn't have any relatives to sort things out
So we cleared out his place in a weekend about
And on the last day I stayed in his home
About 3 am l heard, 'Why are you in my house, be gone! '

© Paul Warren Poetry

by Paul Warren

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