Ghost
Gold,
Like your hair
Like the sun
When it rises over Europe, where you are.
Blue,
Like your eyes,
Like deep pools of light-
So much happening beneath
So many ghosts,
So many things unsaid.
Tall like you
The dreams, the shadows cast
As you run through fields
Down roads
Toward another finish line.
Fingers long
Like promises, like wishes-
Like vines that grow, transcending distance.
Warm,
Your attention
A meditative thing.
Conversations with you
Hidden in the attic of my mind,
You are real and not real at once.
Copyright © Adrian Wells | Year Posted 2021
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