You have a story and you
always did
even though it was lost for
so long.
You had a story before we
came here
You had a story
years, years, and years ago
when this castle
was yours.

I was in your room though
I didn’t know
it was was your room
yet.
I sat on your bed
elbows crossed
knees hunched up
and head hung down.
My family
was downstairs
and I was
alone
taken from my old life
I looked at my suitcase
still unpacked
clothes
and then
paints, brushes, pencils, paper
my truest friends.
I could hear their voices
echoing from downstairs and I was
alone.

I learned a little
each time you came to see me.
You had been
Lord Thomas and had lived in
the wondrous days
of King Arthur.
Once.
I learned stories
such stories
and I began to draw like
never before.
You liked to watch
me and I could
always tell that you were there.
You told me that I
was right about
Arthur’s hair.
I always knew he was
a redhead.
You helped me on
my social studies report
on castles
after all you had been in charge of
one.

When you came downstairs
at breakfast time
and I started talking to you
they really thought
I was the strange one.
You warned me that they wouldn’t be
able to see.
But I wanted you to be there.
Dad was surprised
that I knew about you
said that he had found your name
in the records
but that
perhaps I was a bit too young
for that kind of stuff.
Too old.
They were all too old
even my little brother.

I had scotch tape
so I could put all
my pictures on those stone walls
They swore I was desecrating
the place
but you liked it.

Some days
I would listen to music
while I drew
because it gave me inspiration
then one day
I discovered that you liked Enya
and you wanted to dance
so we did.

There were mirrors in
your room
but you hadn’t put them there
it was Lady Viola
who had done that
and she couldn’t see you
no one could
only me
because I painted things
I had never seen.
Some times we would stand
side by side
in the mirrors
and you would seem
clearer.
Thoughts came into
my mind
unbidden
and I would wonder what
you were like when you were
alive.

Sometimes you were odd
but I guessed it must
be hard to try to be
human again.
Maybe it was like when
an arm
broke and healed
and some one
tried to remember how
it worked
again.

I looked in the records
he told me about.
I saw your name
and then
the names of your daughter
your wife
I wondered if I reminded you of
either of them
why they died
and you didn’t.

I could feel you
behind me
as I lay flat
on your bed
head on a fat blue pillow
Tell me a story
I asked
A story about yourself.
and then you asked
Why?
I told you that
I wondered
that you knew all
about me
and I knew so little
about you
your memories
from long ago.
You began.

You were the eldest
and owned the castle
because that was how
it worked.
You knew your latin
were almost
too studious
and they said that is was
almost too bad
that you weren’t a priest
You still read?
I asked.
Yes,
You said
and I remember hearing
the ruffling of pages.
I walk around
and see a bookshelf
as of yet unexplored
by me.

You said that you had
almost memorized
those books
after reading them
thousands and thousands of times
because, after all you
couldn’t buy new books
since no one could
see you
no one
but me.

Days before I had thought
what can I buy for
a ghost?
Because Christmas
was coming
then I knew;
books
so I bought
you books and I
could tell
you were happy.