Glides Past

She glides past
No one but me;
Sees what;
Who she is?
Translucent is her form;
Ghostly pale skin
Hovering over the place;
Where last she was in life;
Always staring straight ahead;
Searching for what I do not know;
Until last the sun washes down
She disappears again;
Only to arise again on the day;
Of which her death is on.

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