Ghosts That Await You

I look out my window
Towards that make-shift gate,
I have been waiting,
For long and it’s about time.
It’s just me, the gate,
And the mounting expectation.

The only person I waited for,
Ever so patiently, was you.
I knew that the day would end
When you stood at that gate,
looked expectantly into the window,
And I would run out to greet you.

My anklets tinkling,
My skirt swirling.
You’d scoop me up into your arms
And peck me on my cheek.
I’ll hug you and take what’s in your hand
And welcome you home.

I would tell you about my day,
You would tell me about yours,
We’d eat food together,
You’d put me to sleep,
And our tiny world,
would be perfect.

But now, I do the talking all the time,
Wondering if you ever hear me.
The flame on the tiny lamp
Atop the grave sashaying
To every word I say,
Reflecting every smile, every tear I shed.

And when the silence begins to
Grow too loud in my head,
I run to my window, wait there
And do my once favorite hobby.
I stare at the gate until you appear,
And open it; head bent and heavy with sorrow.

You don’t look at the window anymore.
You don’t look for me.
You can’t bear to see it empty anymore.
And I’m done trying to tell you
I’m always there,
Looking out the window.

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