I gave up following little footprints
in the dust long ago. I was bored
with finding them on the table,
wooden floor and stairs, invisible
to everyone but me.
I’d started to feel sick
each time I felt her fingers flick
and pinch my arms or stroke my cheek,
and moved to the other side of the bed,
away from the dip in the mattress
and the hollows in my pillows.
But lately, I’ve noticed a small
shadow flickering on the wall,
a faint trace of perfume in the hall,
and someone gently holds my warm hand
in her cold one when I’m feeling sad.
Kim M. Russell, 15th July 2020
Today Rommy would like us to shape our words around the phrase ‘seeing things’. What comes to mind when we hear or read that expression? I immediately thought of my recent poem ‘Little Ghost’, which I posted on 6th July: https://writinginnorthnorfolk.com/2020/07/06/little-ghost/ and decided to give the ghost another chance.