Ghost - Ian Lilburne

So long — it’s been so long now
So far — we’ve come so far so far
But the frame of thought and time
Is etched and grey
And as the cracks at last appear
I strangely sense you very near

Wild hair, raven dark and curling
A wry laugh, piercing pensive eyes
An A frame on a road forever changing
A small child without a hand to hold
The memories merge as the years fade by
And like a lost and callow youth
I stumble upon the hollow truth
In a photograph
On a sun-drenched afternoon
Of a gentle friend
In a sweetly shaded room
A failing hologram
Flickering in my mind
A broken key
Lost in the folds of time

No pain ― no words of anger
No gain ― no deeper truth
But I can sense you now standing there
On your way to the masquerade
Dressed all in black like the Queen of Spades
In a photograph
On a sun-drenched afternoon
A gentle friend
I won’t see again too soon
A failing hologram
Flickering in my brain
That the folds of time
Will never release again
Oh no…

SOLO MIDDLE EIGHT

Like a photograph
On a sun-drenched afternoon
Of a bunch of friends
I won’t see again too soon
A tightly tangled scene
Etched into my brain
That the folds of time
Will never release again
Oh no…