One from poet I heard long time ago. Keith Wallis. England.

The wind is jamming,

with the grey sky’s band,

as dawn takes the stage

and I hear a tapping

There’s no-one at the door

just the occasional maraca

of the letterbox.

I still hear tapping

stealing me from the melancholy song.

I hear tapping.

The white rose outside the window

with thorny fingers

drums a high hat

from the garden.

A ghost

tapping at my soul.

hitnmiss4fn