Toile Vide

In the cold of what should be winter,leaves yet gracefully fall,rain pounds on the window,a ghost haunts,and memories linger. In the onset of the night,his sorrow heightens,he is outraged,he weeps. The howling wind upon his shutters,a constant blight,strains his ability to cope,as he hugs a pillow to his head. The morning light glares through,and he…