It was just her ghost.

It was just her ghost.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Under the covers
of her page
lay a heart empty,
her thoughts lean
against a tree waiting,
a shadow of hands
create a moment
waving goodbye,
her soul boards the train,
amongst the clouds
the station disappears,
a pendant lies
on the ground,
dead against time
now memories.

© 2021 andrew mitchell


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Added on June 15, 2021
Last Updated on June 16, 2021

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



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Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..

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