Some ghosts are my mother's
They move up stairs and onto landings
They look to clean, to tidy, for children
Long since grown,
Grown and moved on, but for me.
My mother's ghosts linger
seeking the embrace
Once held in nurture
Each of them, they fade
Lost but for the watch I keep
Ochre Idyls
Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions