GHOSTS

wraiths
formed of lost
and youthful
brash,
of wine or scotch
and flick of ash --
a certain swagger
gone
but then
its ghost remains
to strut again
as specter
chained
to heart
and lung
long after youth's
rash song is sung

when skin is slack
and hair is gray
past excess
comes back to play

as chronic cough
and aching spine
the liver, ill,
a troubled mind
to wake old men
and stir the night

dispense regret

and woeful blight

the warning here
for youth to see:
moderation
is the key