~
the memories I buried
do not age
although their ghosts
who visit me, often, do,
in dreams they stare
back coldly, almost
nose to nose, intently,
always unseen by others,
they study me carefully
calibrate my ageing traits
as my skin begins to pale
wrinkle, taut and crack,
I feel no fear
nor intimidation, for these
wise old grey pallid faces
tell me truths, question me
stop time, formulate plans
to help steer my course,
age as they might, both
memories and ghosts
somehow live on forever
in discordant symbiosis
*
© Graham R Sherwood 11/24
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 