Ghosts
She lives within the edges and corners of life;
dipping and drifting, side to side.
She teeters on the edge of the day
then pops up peeking over the sun.
She dances with the fairies; swapping partners
with the ease of a crochet needle in my grandma’s hand.
Oppps, she slipped a stitch!
Well no one will notice in the hodge podge pattern that emerges.
With a slight wobble of self-consciousness
she comes to rest upon my shoulder.
Occasionally I catch a glimpse of her
out of the corner of my eye.
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