Ghost

this is some pretty terribly poetry right here

A ghost forever haunts the forest

Where you and I had used to walk.

I hope that you remember of the moment where

You plucked a petaled flower, pale and white,

Up from the masses of

The hopeless dirty leaves

And tucked it right behind my ear

And brushed my hair away

And pressed your mouth on mine.

The breeze was soft and sweet

A brush right through my cheeks.

The zephyrs drank of sunflowers that day

The sun eternal

A lighting vernal

Now I’m a ghost

And you’re a ghost

The memory is lost.