A Letter to Ghost

Sweet Ghost—

Remember the mornings?

When we watched rainbow rangers,

And conquered with them every danger.

When pill bugs would ignite rapture,

As they shook in our palms with nervous laughter. 

Remember the afternoons?

When the grass became an assembly of soft beds,

Where we laid our lovely heads

and watched the blue sky

that seemed so still and shy?

Remember the nights?

When the wind would kiss our face,

And the moon would smile sweetly with grace.

When imaginary silhouettes haunted our nightmares,

Instead of the shadows of our own affairs.

Sweet Ghost—

Where are you now?

My heart deflates with dread as the sun sings a new day

No longer can I conquer my soul’s demons locked in fray.

The world once painted with rivulets of color, 

Now seems awashed with monochrome horror. 

Where are you now?

Where once bloomed magic now blooms monotony;

this life has become a model for a capitalistic philosophy.

No longer do the skies capture,

the breadth of luminous laughter. 

Where are you now?

Iron clouds have made their home in the smoky cracks of my vessel

where they poke their sticks along the ribs they nestle.

A numbness, like an icy coat, plagues every sense in me 

And no longer can I perceive this life in its full glory and glee.