ghost

November

the rain greets with a tender kiss
to calm a damaged child
who seeks renewal in mothers arms

forests that weep cherry blossoms
along this cobbled path
know new soldiers lie forgotten

in the shadow of leaves
my soul is at peace
with whom I have become

winter marches across the plains
the soft footfalls of a ghost
and an old man dreaming...

Steven Anthony Barnett
Copyright 2001 Steve Barnett