When we were twelve, Our tutor once told us ‘Don’t be afraid at school. When you sit, dazed, looking at the questions, Remember the ghost of me Is always there. But how will I know? I will blow a cool whisper in your ears. Many decades have passed, One November morning Before the ice had descended I sat down to write, Staring at the empty screen, Waiting In that empty space, What was behind it? Nothing, And So, I waited, Till the slender voices of the trees Became whispers And fear passed From bough to bough Till the trees turned to skeleton Till ice formed On a December morning. I never once thought I would say his name Like an old wish
Good piece. You captured a feeling in a moment. The flow of it. Thanks for the read.