I feel I've, never told you, the story of the ghost. That I once knew, and talked to, of whom I'd never boast. For this is my big secret, how I get ahead. I never have to worry, I call him instead. His answers came in actions, he never smoke a word. or maybe I laid down the phone, before he could be heard. I somehow feel forsaken, like he had closed the door. I guess I just stopped needing him as much as once before. But maybe he's still with me, the latch was left unhooked. He's waiting in the wind and rain, i simply haven't looked.
