Something stirs
from the disregarded corners
of my mind.
As I push
through the foliage of thought,
it takes shape.
A forgotten memory,
reinvented as a riddle,
haunting me again.
Ghosts really should know their place.
|
|
|
|
|
| Published in the Taj Mahal Review, January 2004 | ||||
Something stirs from the disregarded corners of my mind. As I push through the foliage of thought, it takes shape. A forgotten memory, reinvented as a riddle, haunting me again. Ghosts really should know their place. |
||||