My pale skinned friend

Throw a few more branches on the coals,
  before they fade away,
    and I will tell one more.

As a child,
  a friend would stop by,
     always after my parents had went to sleep.

She used to be close,
   but one day she seemed not to be around.

After awhile,
  she knocked on my window,
    asking to be let in.

I said I was sorry,
   but my parents said no visitors after nightfall,
     and I was a dutiful son.

Since she seemed so sad,
  I told her to try a common friend,
   maybe she would agree.

A smile,
  and a wave,
  gone in a moment.

Next night,
  she returned,
   and once again,
     I had to say no.

Maybe,
   our teacher!
     He always liked you!

A grin on her face,
  and a wave,
   she was gone.

The third night,
  she seemed disturbed.
    Only wanting to be beside me,
     and I had to refuse,
         how about the priest?
          He never turns away the children!

With a rueful look,
  she blew me a kiss,
     and she was gone.

Now the odd part,
   I often see her at night,
    and she hasn't aged a day.

She will ride along with me in my wagon sometimes,
   as I drift from town to town.

Always tell her she is welcome,
   but she only appears after the coals die down.