Ghosts

Walking amidst flowers,
her mind set upon the future and past,
never upon the exquisite bloom or fragrance.

Looking straight into my eyes,
she’s not here.

Pondering the next thing she will say
or looking for opportunities to get away,
she overlooks the divine before her.
Her spirit, flying through the air
or driving down the road,
arrives but never remembers the trip.

Playing with children,
wishing the room was clean,

Making love,
thinking of someone else,

Her body is here
but she is not.

Wispy, ghostly, corporeal being,
fearing the end,
but why should she?

She was never here.

 

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