I am a ghost at home
I haunt it from a different continent
Reality that consists that place
Exists across time and space
Such is the fabric of devotion
It has got itself wrapped around
Town cries for the teatime
Tinkering in the store room
Bickering for video games
Quarrels below the hood
Inquiry, always inquiry
Even at death’s door
“Child, have you eaten?”
So unendingly beloved there
That no other could compare
I had made a grave decision
When I used to be tiny and kind
To never forsake and never leave
No longer those nor there
Defeated and secular to spare
I haunt, because
The dead doesn’t
The dead won’t