“Fine Spirits” by J. Anne Fullerton

The ghosts that float above the stone

Traverse the avenue

In fading light, their costumes gray

Blurred faces in darkened window glass

Under evening’s dim, they harken back to a time

Take their seats under footlights’ blaze

Captive breath held still

Eyes wide, beset by wonders

To drown in enchantment’s ocean deep

When night nears end and curtains low

Actors vanish from the stage

In wispy draughts of smoke

The crowds disperse to the streets beyond

To march a misty path

In coats and cloaks and frocks and pearls

Among the blindly living souls

Whose daylight world commence

Whisper, they, the lure of the theatre

Fine spirits to attend.