Jean
Quite early on in our relationship
Something less than a year in fact
We shared an interrelationship
That called for a degree of tact
My husband had not said a word
‘Til one night sitting side by side
Stroking the cat while he purred
I said something I couldn’t hide
“Ever feel that we are not alone”?
I’d wanted to say it for a while
Over time the thought had grown
He turned to me with a knowing smile
He puffed through his cheeks a bit
“I though it was just me”, he sighed
“You’ve seen her”? Eyebrows a-knit
“Thank heavens for that” he cried
“Where did you see her, and when”?
“At the top of the stairs at first”, I said
“In the hall, and the front bedroom then,
She doesn’t seem to know she is dead”
We talked about her in total calm
No fear at all by either of us felt
She did not want to do us any harm
Dazed as to what the past had dealt
We went to visit the previous owner
He called his wife to say we were there
To see if she knew our mystery loner
Hand to her mouth then the back of her hair
We described the woman we had seen
Looks went back and forth at each other
“I have to say that it sounds like Jean”
That would be Bill’s poor dead mother
Photo albums all brought to the table
Silence fell as Rosie rummaged through
This time it was we who were not able
To hide feelings, it was the woman we knew
We came home with an old photograph
Of Jean dressed just as we saw her
Placed in a sturdy frame, her epitaph
On its final position we did then concur
We said nothing to anybody else at all
Then my daughter went up to bed one night
Rushing back in, hands against the wall
“A lady on the stairs gave me such a fright”
The teenager looked at us both and knew
That we knew, that much she quickly saw
What she had seen was completely true
Her outburst loud as she laid done the law
We should have warned her, a ghost was here
She slowly calmed down and asked at last
“Why aren’t you scared, do you have no fear”?
From one to the other her eyes were cast
We knew not why Jean was still in our home
And likewise she knew not why we were
She didn’t speak but continued to roam
We stopped in our tracks at a look from her
A friend house-sat once when we were away
And on our return he gave us a warning
“There’s a ghost in this house, don’t say nay,
Dressed in black as if she is in mourning”
The only physical thing that ever occurred
Just a little adjustment from time to time
The photo was faced down without a word
No special reason, no comment, no rhyme
She never bothered or worried us at all
We lived there for years without dread
But suddenly she went away as we recall
Then we heard that her only son was dead
She was waiting for him or so it seemed
The thought I had firm set in my mind
Her journey to heaven delayed she’d deemed
Not to leave her beloved son William behind
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