Friday, June 11, 2010

A poem


Near his bed at dawn ghosts
Gathered to point and stare,
Never to speak, vanishing
Upon the flare of sunlight.
He did not seek to understand
Their pantomime, though wondered
At their silence, their reliance
On glance and gesture. They signaled
No menace, only wistfulness,
As though unclear who was
Present, who absent.

© 2010 F. Wilson


  1. Lovely!

    Also, I am reminded of one of the greatest pieces of wisdom ever given between characters in a movie about the paranormal. There's a scene in "The Mothman Prophecies" when a more experienced character says to the lead character:

    "Just because they live on a higher plane of existence doesn't mean they're smarter than you are."


  2. Very nice poem, Frank.