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Ghost
April 20, 2009
She is an angel. A child.
Wild.
She dances with perfection. With ease.
I watch silently, in desperation.
Her long brown curls bounce. Brush her cheeks.
Ebb like the waves she stands in.
Things I will never do.
The wind stirs my hair.
It whispers, “She is a ghost.”
Her laughter handles my heart with silent curiosity.
Her parents love her. Console her. Care.
Things no one has ever done to me.
She is a ghost, to me. She breathes.
Like no other.
She is free.
I stand. Only loneliness. Time to leave.
For I am the ghost.
And she cannot see me.
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Favorite Quote:
"In a fight it does not matter who falls down the most, but who gets up last." ~Sensei Zack, and porbably someone else.