Slaves of Time

June 11, 2009
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If you listen carefully,
Your ear up to the glass.
From inside this ancient mansion,
Come the sounds of ages past.

Troubled souls still walk the halls,
Not in body, but in spirit.
In order to believe this,
You merely have to hear it.

The clatter of the iron chains,
Dragged across the floor.
Quiet footsteps on the stairs,
A soft knock upon a door.

A child’s quiet laughter,
The pain of silent tears.
Old songs long forgotten,
Echo through the years.

Whispered conversations heard,
In the middle of the night.
These ancient ghosts are heard not seen,
As though just hiding out of sight.

Far beyond the cotton fields,
A cemetery lay.
And although their bodies are no longer here,
Their spirits will always stay.

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