My House on the Hill

I walk with a ghost,
Whose face I can barely see.
Whose eyes are blue
Her hair is like the early morning sunlight
Soft and yellow
She is not a ghost
Of yesterday,
But of tomorrow
How can I describe
A girl I do not think I know
The only time I saw her
Was in a dream,
Riding in a car,
Laughing and happy,
Up to see a house on a hill.
A house I have yet
To really see.
A house that looks like
I could call it home.