My Father's Ghost
When the closet door slipped open
I pulled the knob to see,
where inside his ghost so still
was looking back at me.
Was it wind, or was it breeze,
or fancy of my mind?
And when I wondered on these things
I heard a voice behind:
He's no one less than whom you've
loved since your infancy.
But now he's gone, he's up above--
his form you cannot see.
So, set aside your grief, my child,
and skip along your way.
You can know, deep in your heart,
you'll see the man someday.
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