Shimmering on, souls not quite gone
Dance in the dark until the dawn.
Some claim it’s swamp gas, but I know
What science says isn’t always so.
These sparkling specters seem the spawn
Of charcoal night, that lingers on
When lights are dimmed and shades are drawn.
These spirits neither stay nor go, shimmering on.
That threshold they are trapped upon
A living limbo, leaves them sans
Salvation or perdition, oh
A sad and scary evening show, shimmering on.
© August 10, 2005 by Allan M. Heller
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