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Census Report

The echos run from the cellar
Pass through wood and brick
Mortar and strong Yorkshire stone
 
Touch the phantoms chatting in the lounge
The ghosts passing on the stairway
The spectres, ever astir, in the upper rooms
 
Over a century
Of living, breathing
Vibrant souls
Nest with me here
As shadows.
 
A distant but distinct trail
Of life and love
Passion and hate
Exciteme...

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Census

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