Ghosts

And now 

The ghosts

Have started 

Coming 

And it wasn’t 

Quite 

How I 

Imagined it

In fact 

It isn’t anything 

Like it

At all

And I wonder 

Therefore 

Is it only me 

Because they 

Told me lots of

Things 

Lots of stories 

And they gave 

Everything 

Away

But they 

Never 

Mentioned the ghosts 

 

And I see them

Mainly 

But not exclusively

At night 

Just a flicker 

Just a thing 

Out of the 

Corner

Of my eye 

A cat

That when I look 

Back

Is just a pile

Of washing 

A person 

Standing 

Hovering 

Waiting to talk 

Which is no

More 

Than 

A shadow 

A noise 

A footstep 

A knock

At my heart

My chest 

My mind 

And me 

Barely middle aged

If that’s even 

A thing 

Any more. 

I don’t know 

I’ve not enough 

Fingers 

Or notches 

To count 

 

And I wonder 

Did I roll

All my marbles

Too soon

Are they spent 

Or is it just 

My dreams 

Wobbling 

The mirror 

Whose dusty image 

I thought 

I grasped 

So tightly

◄ Living in exile

Stepping out ►

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