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Ghost


Last year I caught sight of you
at Christmas in the mall, far ahead in the crowd.
I shouted your name.
You turned briefly towards me,
your prominent nose
as recognizable as Mozart’s
in the portrait of him
hung above your basement piano.

You vanished, merging
with the surging crowd.
I pushed my way past
shoulders and handbags, but you were gone.

Even now I catch glimpses of you:
a light flicking past
the kitchen window,
a stirring of air as you brush by.
Or that unforgettable Friday,
the sound of water running
when I got home, the rug
by the tub wet
as if you had just
stepped out.

Bob, love it.

Suggestion: Santa to replace overused Mozart

Nice.

I really like this Bob, no nits
it should go to the IBPC this month.

 
recalls to me another IBPC poem about this time 4 years ago:

http://ibpc.webdelsol.com/poems/disrobing-the-ghost





Michael (MV)


 
 
  

good one, Michael

I love this one Bob, especially the word play here:

when I got home, the rug
by the tub wet
as if you had just
stepped out.

Eira

Just caught your post, interesting how this memory runs ahead of you in the mall, when we often drag our memories behind us. Nicely done.