I believed in ghosts
Who haunt and taunt
Whose muffled midnight meanderings
And claps and taps
Echo in other rooms.

I once saw spectral spirit
Pass through a bedroom wall
When young
But now I suffer
From poor night vision
And all I see
Are shadows
Moving across
Obscured walls.

If I could talk 
With the dead
Would I listen 
More than I speak?
Are you friend or foe?
What is it you seek?

I don’t talk
With the dead
But we visit
In my dreams
We relive the good times
And revise the bad.

My ghosts
Are my friends.

I used to be afraid
Of ghosts
But now I know
They are not my foe
But rather my friend
And I look forward
To our nightly adventures
As we celebrate the good
And repair the bad.