Ghosts

In the bright fullness of day
they hide from the eyes,
but when the light is faint enough
so gray is the shade
of leaves and foliage.
Alone, the imagination’s eyes
give the sight.

It’s when bushes mysterious move
when sounds rise from thickets
and our minds decide
if they are just the wind
or some other unearthly source.

That is the magical time
where a garden seems to breath
you just feel as if being watch
and the brain creates
a hundred reasons for each
unexplainable event.

Walking away
those sensations
stick in the head.
As we feel temporarily
trapped between life and death.

Perhaps it is all fantasy,
but inside we can stop
wandering into that shadow realm
while hoping to prove
the world really is enchanted.

Moving quickly when not so sure
just in case monster are waiting,
heart pounding from every thud
that keeps echoing within
like a sound we can’t forget.

Following us home
and into our dreams
as the ghost of what
we wish was real.