Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse #162
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows... ~William
Shakespeare
Flight is but a haunted memory
so I don’t need wings to travel far
regret can be a boarded window
yet a broken door that stands ajar
heartache is a house that creeks and moves
like an old woman’s legs in winter tend to do
we hold our memories
and peer at grief
believing in ghosts
others may never see
yet still they leave and appear
like finger prints on
glass
drinking from cups and saucers
we will never have
they follow and lead
they hold our hand
they make us stumble
yet help us stand
for yesterday was a lost child with tangled hair
today is a black bird with a lonesome stare
tonight is the moon’s reflection everywhere I go
and tomorrow a baby I shall nestle close
the reminders enter from near and far
broken and bent like a door ajar.
