For them

When we walked in there we were like a family,
even though I barely knew you and had just met
your daughter. The circle of friends opened
as if for a family.

_________________ We were apart for some time
during the game, while we were all taking our
turns rolling the ball towards the pins. With
your daughter it was the success of carrying
the heavy ball, stepping from one foot on the
other and then letting it drop, hoping it would
move in the right direction. But we applauded,
and she was thrilled.

_____________________ She’d come to me, so
thrilled she could hardly hold onto herself, and
hug me. Or asked me to lift her up,
hold her by the hands and let her do a somer-
sault. I’d completely forgotten these childish
games but did my best. Eventually, she stood
in front of me panting and sheepishly said
that maybe this was enough.

____________________________ These are ghosts
of feelings. They came unexpectedly, and they
won’t come back, even though I find that I am
waiting for these ghosts.

– James Steerforth ( © 2008 )

Posted for Sunday Scribblings and Ghosts.

About James Steerforth

I am an author of poetry and fiction, translator and painter who loves to have fun with borrowed feathers.
This entry was posted in Creative writing, Ghosts, Life, Literature, Love, Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Ghosts

  1. danni says:

    very nice post, full of beautiful memories that are just out of reach — i really enjoyed this soft and gentle piece!!!

  2. Karen Crone says:

    Feelings do possess us like ghosts, don’t they. We have so little control. Thanks for this.

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