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Aren't we all ghosts at one point?
This poem is not related to any person alive or dead!
To my friend Jennie...


Img_6788__2___hbby Beth Vesseur12 Sep 2013

Listened to fascinating notes again
This time outside, in the garden.
It felt different, magical; with
Back-up choir of all sorts of birds
Singing their hearts out, ardent
And wind on the drying leaves
Added mystery into this song.

Soothing, reminiscing the times...
What times exactly, what have we had?
Nothing that I'll ever remember...
If I close my eyes and wish so hard
Will he appear in the faerie dust,
Will he be walking with a smile
To me from the old garden gate?

I want to forget everything, loving
Being with him, feeling great.
Just he and me and the birds...
But I can't, can I? All are ghosts
He, me, and my imagination.

Unlike the crow on its usual place
On the top of Douglas fir
That waits for me everyday.
This is the reality: like a bud in May
Yearning for a happy blossom.

Ghosts won't let me, won't let him
Nowhere near me, to love and to be happy.
So be it, don't dwell on it, forget it's senseless.
Nothing will ever change , life's precious.
Go on feeling as I do, like a fifteen year old
Believing in everything, falling for untold...