5 September 2012
In quiet times of heartbeat still, when dreams drift south, in lucid spill. when suddenly, in whooshed surprise, apparition reflects, in sparkled eyes.
Your neck of hair stands short and still, while you grapple slip to prevent grape'd spill. Shakes of spiritual splashed surprise, now you've seen your dead grandmother's eyes.
Hinge of squeak, from door quite still, escaping draft on sunlit spill. The cat quick scarpers in clawed surprise, sits tail-wagging with growl'd black eyes.
Air of swirl affects you still, and knuckled clasps a spooky spill. This fleeting glance exudes surprise, and a tear of joy to lonely eyes
Acknowledgment you miss her still as life revived and memories spill. Her love brings joy and soft surprise returning sparkle in once dulled eyes.
That magic moment lives with you still, through many salty tears did spill. But a life lived long will not surprise, while ghosts live on through open'd eyes.
The Ghosts In Our Lives • Opuss № I