It is she, in any woman,
A soul without a face.
 Who told the spider of the web-
Delicacy of grace. 
(A spirit in white lace)
Sitting in empty car seat, Shadowed in streetlight
The Ghost Lady,
  Like moonlight,
    Gently appears tonight.

Does the window cry?
The cat cannot decide
 If the painting melts in tears
If a ghost could be a bride?
 (It’s on the inside  )
Reaching out
         A touch that passes my heart
Only one of us is here, 
But we can never be apart.
(The end is just a start.)
Thus so - she disappears - Just the way she came.
As always, unexpected, And likewise without blame.
(Still she will always call my name)
Left behind are ghost forgotten.
To embody one anew.
Unsuspected, and unrivaled.
As mysterious as true.
(To see a friend as lovers do - )
Within a song, 
Her white voice calls.
And in my mind it rings the halls.
Until, Again, Her spirit falls.
Where there are none could rise above
         Or follow in flight 
the wiser dove,
    As we all heed the call
                          
Of that Ghost Lady Love.