(An original Minifigure inspired poem from True North Bricks)
Late at night, as fog rolls in,
That is when her cries begin.
Faintly on the passing breeze,
You might hear her tearful pleas.
Lonely in a field of bones,
Drifting through the rows of stones.
Gliding slowly without pause,
Searching for a long lost cause.
Of this spirit, have no fear,
Wonder what has kept her here.
Ask yourself what was her story?
Why is she in purgatory?