Pay Attention

Pay Attention

Day 15 of 30 Days of Poetry

A small purple flower growing from beneath a rock alongside the path
Don't stop
To think
Of where
You are
Just walk
On by
Without
A glance
Keep all
Your thoughts
Inside
Your head
Got to
Keep up
With the
People
Walk in
Lockstep
Don't you
Dawdle
There's no
Time to
See where
You are
Going
And you
Never
Even
Noticed
Where you
Had been.
Stop.
Think.


Walk,


Glance,
Keep


Your head.







Dawdle,
There's
Time to
See.


You


Noticed.
Ghost Story

Ghost Story

Perception is a strange phenomenon. Seeing is not really believing, and while the truth may be out there, there’s no guarantee it’s standing up and waving its metaphorical arms to be noticed. I don’t believe in ghosts, but…

I was about 8 or 9 at the time, lying in my bed that was up against one corner of my bedroom, the long left side against an outside wall. Beyond the foot of my bed in the same wall was the window, a large 6′ x 4′ single pane. Closed. I was waking up although it was still dark — I don’t recall what time of year it was.

All was still and quiet, no sounds from the rest of the single-story house. Not from my brother’s room next to mine, nor from my parents across the hallway. It was as if I was alone in the world.

But then I became aware that I was not alone. There was somebody else in the room with me. Standing next to my bed, looking over and down on me was a figure. Standing to my left, where the wall should have been. A young woman with dark hair, wearing a simple long white dress.

I guess I ought to have been scared by her impossible nature but she was a comforting presence, radiating calm and peace. She never moved or spoke, and I could not describe her face to you at all, but she had a beauty and elegance to rival any fairytale princess.

I hadn’t noticed her arrival, nor did I notice when she vanished never to be seen again. I’ve never forgotten her. I wonder sometimes who she was. Was she some figment of my imagination? Was she perhaps an angel watching over me? Or was I seeing my future self, the person I am inside?

I don’t know, will never know the “truth” of this experience. It was mine alone, and I must make of it what I will. But I still don’t believe in ghosts.