In death as in life,
always on the outside
looking in, skirting the crowd.
Avoiding the loud,
I listen through a cloud:
I am the midding ghost –
just haunting, not lost.
Kim M. Russell, 27th April 2021
Image by Steinar Engeland on Unsplash
My response to NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-Seven
Today’s challenge is to write a poem inspired by an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, some of which should strike a chord with us or get us thinking about defining an in-between, minor, haunting feeling that we, and that does not yet have a name.