Fear is Norma's nightgown
Left hanging on the clothesline
Waltzing in all its faded glory
With the wind that had been its friend

Lacy hems once adorned the silk
That draped over her shoulders,
Flattered by her golden curls
As it flowed down her form when the wind would embrace her

Several washings had worn out the fabric
Now coming apart at the seams
Yet the wind dares not batter this gentle ghost,
It sings a lullaby in her memory.