Alison

There is a spirit in a tavern

That walks about the room.

As some band works out a rhythm

And a singer moans the Blues.

Sometimes you get a feeling

Like someone is sitting at your side

Whispering and laughing like

A confidant in whom you could confide.

Occasionally a dead drunk patron

In the corner, who slumbers and is mumbling

Is suddenly possessed of a lively spirit!

He’s alert! And he’s audibly grumbling.

I wonder, "Did that patron sway that way

From a push by some invisible hand?"

Did someone try to steal his drink

Or is there more to this than we understand?

And then a glass or a bottle breaks

But not for any explainable reason.

It's always been at times like that

I'm sure that a ghost is teasing.

But she's just a playful spirit that

Wanders... not bothering anyone.

And as she closes in on my heart,

I know that her name is Alison.

Copyright (c) 2024 Jeff Bayazit, All Rights Reserved