Ghosts of moments from our past
linger just beyond reach.
Those we once held dearly,
now we silently beseech.
Silvery memories of that first love--
now but sighs on the wind,
near a secret place where, long ago,
broken hearts would begin.
Ghosts of a love, once captured
but escaped in the quiet.
Childrens' whispers, giggles
faded to echoes in the night.
Ghosts hold the stories
of lives almost spent--
ghosts of memories that remain
where, once, our dreams were sent.
Originally submitted October, 2021
Reworked and submitted January 23,2022
for A Brian Strand (1058) Poetry Contest
Copyright © Ann Peck | Year Posted 2021
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