The spirits have come, to talk upon this night
A medium and a priest, who chant in candle light
The meditator stares – does she know what it is?
That aura claiming her, within a trance like mist
Would it ever calm her worries?
Now the Spector’s are in their sight
There sit the priest and medium girl,
in fading candle light.
© Copyright 2016 Nocturnal Writer. All rights reserved.
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