Durie Street and Past Sorrows

They see me and beckon
As a friend
‘Here’s the one that lived in the house at the end’

And a silence ensues
That’s almost reverent
For many a night here I marked the Moon

And watched them upon the hill
As they made their rounds
And entered houses without a sound

And I suppose I’d be watching still
If not for you
You wooed and won me and own me still

And all those poems about moonlit streets
And ghostly haunts and dark retreats
Molder like autumn leaves in a drawer

And I walk as guests of ghosts no more
And have no insights
Into their arts or lore

Though sometimes on these autumn nights
When the Moon is pale and chill
I see their shadows upon the hill

And part of me wanders still.