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.