When it’s simply too cold
to go outside, you recognize
the ghosts stirring in the next room —
opening a cupboard, clattering
a coffee cup, calling your name
in a voice long-ago memorized.
The radiator hisses and groans.
Aloneness is a blanket you cling to
like a lifeline pulled taut
across state lines.
Outside, the November wind
steals leaves and hats,
carries familiar visitors to your door.
It was you who let them in, after all —
without much of a struggle,
to be honest —
a breeze across lips,
a swallowed smile, a sigh.
Oh holy memory,
here I am. Come —
haunt me all you wish.
I promise you this: this time, I’ll stay.
Thanks for reading poetry. The world needs more people like you.
