Ghosts;
Walking through the rooms
Of an empty house.
Seeking the past.
Their silent breathing,
No more than dust motes
Floating in afternoon sunlight.
Their shadows,
Moving in the no wind.
Old footprints appearing in the dust,
And going nowhere.
Nowhere,
Now.
The ghosts of past happiness.
Mick Canning 
Reblogged this on newauthoronline.
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Thanks, Kevin.
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You are welcome Mick. Best – Kevin
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Oh, this is beautiful but it leaves me feeling a little sad, somehow. Wonderfully crafted, my friend.
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Thanks, Lucy. It is about sadness, so perhaps it works.
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It does indeed. Very clever. I was left feeling somewhat wistful but with a sense of regret. I’ve had to eat a biscuit to cheer myself up (that’s my excuse, anyway 😉 )
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I’ve had to go and start making myself a curry. I find it usually helps.
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Yes, definitely. I love a good curry. Might pop round yours for tea, actually.
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You’d better hurry…
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Very effective, well done. We’ve been taking out the furniture, packing, emptying my grandmother’s house (she’s moved to a nursing home), and this poem strikes home.
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Thanks, Robert. That’s always rather sad. I hope it’s a nice place she’s moving to and that she’s not too unhappy at going.
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It’s an excellent place – nice rooms, a sun porch, a kitchen on each floor, etc., activities, music and day trips, and wonderful nurses.
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That sounds good. It can always be a real worry, but you seem to have found somewhere better than average.
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And there’s a deli in the main building, pastrami sandwiches, stuffed cabbage, and celery tonic! Yea!
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Are you sure you haven’t got ‘retirement home’ confused with ‘holiday centre’?
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🙂
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Beautiful, it evokes the feeling perfectly!
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Thanks, Malcolm. Everybody needs a spot of melancholy now and again.
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