Old ghosts

The car wheels shuddered

and the body trembled in second gear

as we rounded the roundabout

near where you used to live.

Near the path we used to take;

fish and chips in hand,

bruised knuckles

and thin jackets.

We almost saw the brick wall

which ran alongside your house

and the playing field where no ball games

are allowed;

just games of the mind,

the heart, games of petal pulling

and questioning every time

you said ‘I love you.’


So the car continues to shudder,

until I slow into first gear,

allowing us both to breath in

the darkness and closeness

of old ghosts –

spectres of you and me.


Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Signed copies on Etsy

Image by Annette Meyer from Pixabay

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