A movement in the corner of an eye,
noises in the dark,
a missing glove,
a cold breeze and the door shuts.
Today, footprints in the snow,
the curtains move in an empty house,
a faint stain on the carpet,
melted ice on the kitchen floor.
A melody, indistinguishable from the howling wind,
a whisper in the walls,
steps outside in the garden,
soft on the frozen snow.
Sweating despite the cold,
a pale star in the night sky,
distant voices in the dark,
a figure wandering the deserted streets.
Rose petals on the doormat,
dust floating in mid air,
a flickering candle light,
just a ghost lingering at the house.
Just another lonely soul that can't let go,
until it's forgotten,
like all the lost gloves,
and footprints,
and stars.
Like all the figures in the foggy winter's night.
