Patti Masterman

Pale Ghost - Poem by Patti Masterman

The sun comes out from behind the clouds,
And I become tangent for seconds; mere minutes,
As the arc of rays reaches deeper inside,
Excavating myself, from me:
I tread old memories, on borrowed time;
Friends and loved ones, all borne away:
Am I but the pale ghost, of yesterday?

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 28, 2010

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