The grey ghosts of loves passed
linger near us all the time
but cannot touch
the new loves growing vine.
They can only watch from afar
at the new shapes forming
leaving old pastures behind.
They linger in the darkness
hoping one day to again
relive and capture their time
these ghosts of loves passed.
This is a very interesting perspective, that loves lost are all around and in the vicinity of loves present. Some times I'm hoping they're not Ha Ha. You move so eloquently between comedy and deep theory. Marvellous poem. Best Steve
And we really don't know, do we? Anything is possible and your words certainly make us believe. Another '10! ' Warm Wishes, Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I confess I do sort of get into a 'ghostly' mood this time of year. But this is really sweet and I love how the old loves cannot touch the vines of the new loves, they are separated by time and space and the hidden dimensions of the heart that we can never see. Like this very much.