His ghost stole in like the grey fingers of dawn.
I am queuing for a Cadbury’s Applause,
Back wheel spinning, glimpsed through the grocery door.
His bike on its side, propped as if on our lawn,
And he, beside me, defies sensible laws.
His ghost stole in like the grey fingers of dawn.
“Does Mum know you’re here? Everything’s been so torn.”
“Everything’s fine.” But his strange tone gives me pause,
Back wheel spinning, glimpsed through the grocery door.
The line shuffles. I break his gaze, fearing scorn.
Though queues must follow inexorable laws
His ghost stole in like the grey fingers of dawn.
“I have to go now. Don’t worry. Nothing’s torn.”
I fumble through my coins and buy the Applause,
Back wheel spinning, glimpsed through the grocery door.
Dad’s hand shaking my shoulder. Waking, I yawn.
“Your brother’s gone,” he tells me, “and you’re the cause.”
His ghost stole in like the grey fingers of dawn,
Back wheel spinning, glimpsed through the grocery door.
another wise monkey 
This is great. Really benefits from multiple readings too
Thanks so much, Ben. Came together in a midnight moment of beery inspiration.
Great use of this form.
Thanks. I only learned about it last week, but Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night has been a favourite since my teens.