Looking for the Ghost (age 7)
The house next door Empty darkness during the day Creaky porch, stuck lost in time I was 7 in Saratoga Looking through the window for life. The fisherman at the canal, I Watched between the grasses As he reached into his basket, saying hello And Pulled out a gift for me. It was to look for birds like the ones etched on the binoculars that I still have. The rain barrel on the edge of the yard Cold collected water, and the smooth oak feeling as I played with the inside mossy edges. From there, I watered flowers and the raspberry bush. One morning it hailed on the garden The barrel looked happy. My room faced the house next door My bedtime ritual as I stared at its window Was to see someone there between the worn lace curtains Between the broken glass, between the dreams in my mind Since then I'm still looking for ghosts Through windows of my life.
