Ghost's Flowers.

by Tar McClure.
(Northern Ireland)

We saw you everywhere,
In crowded rooms,
On busy streets.

We heard your voice,
On old c.ds
In your brothers laugh,

We left flowers at your grave,
But we never saw you there,
We never heard your voice.

So we left flowers in the streets,
In c.d shops,
At your brother's house.

We left your ghost flowers,
And your body not,
Cause you're still live,
You do not rot.