Our Ghosts Running

The summer treetops shaded us and the hot air
kept us flushed
through the pursuit of the moment.

And when those leaves began to fall around us,
we listened as they
were crunched by our footsteps.

In the fall air, we were warm and hazy,
with creases from laughter
upon our pink faces.

And then through the swirling snowflakes
we found
how nice cold noses felt
when pressed against warm cheeks.

And we ran towards something
but
towards nothing.

And in the icy valley, we left it there.
Ghosts running
through the trees in time-past.
Gone,
but never really fading.

7.29.19 Cuyahoga River, Ohio: photo by author

Also published on Medium. Read me here.

*Top Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

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