Her wings, I see them.
Her fiery eyes stare at me.
She always laughs and looks around.
Always sitting on the ground.
A boy come over, about her age.
Whenever he comes, it smells of sage.
He wears brown, never speaks.
He never cries, tears never leak.
A woman soon joins them, never a sir.
She looks around for signs of danger.
She pick them up, the girl starts to scream.
In run men, part of the team.
A siren goes off, as loud as ever.
Aeroplanes fly, never, never.
A bomb goes off and kills them all,
leaving a hole, 10 feet tall.
I blink and stare out my kitchen door,
looking out on the clean garden floor.
No big hole, only grass and clover.
Then the ghost scene starts all over.
