The following poem is inspired by a well known spectre around Victoria's golf course, called The Ghost of the Links. Doris disappeared on a soft spring night in the 30's her body found a days later, beside the ocean,  missing her shoes. Her ex-husband was thought to have committed the crime, but he had disappeared as well. A month to the day later he was found, his body in the sea and Doris's shoes neatly tucked in his pocket.

Sought out on a rocky moonlit shore
     cold thin face of a love gone mad
spray of the cold ocean cast a seamless shroud
     upon her bent and pale body.
She died here in the 30's, but never really left the course
    She sometimes wanders, watching, waiting....

Lovers who see her don't remain so
    and doubters she torments, encircling round them
Doris who is the April's bride dressed all in white
    October widow, dressed in brown
on your feet no shoes you wear
    Dear Doris, is it cold in the links?

These they found in your dear Victor's jacket
    two simple slippers folded. House shoes, that once fit your
cold blue toes.
    They found them in his pockets, quite proper
when the sea gave him up for you, a month had past
    since you had died, April's bride.
And I always wonder, especially on moonlit nights when you
    cast your mist around young lovers once more

Why did he take your shoes?
 
 
 
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CONTRIBUTOR'S BIO

Background by Grapholina.