I'm a Ghost

Rang on your bell
A man let me in
He knew not my face
Nor my business within

Toured the rooms of our old house
The halls and the floors
Were free of the dust
We had left there before

Drove away in my Tonka Blue car
To split infinitive and Beyonce
Recycled brass-riffs on my juke-box
No-one saw me, transparently

And I'm a ghost
A spook in some old car
You wouldn't know
Or give me credit for

Adam Sear

If you've any comments about this poem, Adam Sear would be pleased to hear from you.