The Wanderer

A mystery
A dead bolt slides
The dead of night
A child is stirred
Without fright
His sleepy eyes
Rubbed in to focus
To catch a glimpse
Of those among us
A solitary
Little girl
Quietly laughs
Finger to curl
Follow me
She slyly says
For we are one
And yet I’m dead
Arise my boy
Shake from your slumber
For one and one
Is now our number
With sleight of hand
And shadow play
We shall dance
Until that day

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