Waiting For Her Ghost Poem by Ronald Chapman

A lonely September morning,
Summer has not quite ended,
Feeling the cold rains of fall on my face,

Sad tears falling, lookingaround,
She isn't here.
To wipe away the rain,

My warm sunshine,
Who made the flowers grow, mending my heart,
With a smile, seen around the world,

Together we kissed one last time,
As the blossoms fell asleep,
Under a carpet of many colors,

She grew tired,
Fell asleep,
She flew away on Angel wings.

Our thoughts became dreams,

Waiting for her ghost,
To visit me, every year,
Beneath cherry blossom trees, in the springtime.