Ghosts don’t mind the sound of bells
reminding them of easier times, of joy
a church with a wedding, a ship guided
safely through the fog, along with wood creaking
brings a sense of hope. But some ghosts enjoy the grey,
waiting for a warm fire in an empty house
absorbing the silence, the lack of a body,
to care for. Most of them though, long for eyes,
real eyes, veins pumping real blood
so please don’t laugh at them when they search
for a body with a pulse, and for bells,
reminding them of easier times.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”