A poem by Brittani Leigh — There are things left behind. They aren't spirits. They aren't Ghosts. They are echos, Memories of what used to be. In the dark they shiver Alone. Seeking companionship, Seeking acknowledgement, Seeking to be remembered. An icy hand On the shoulder of a young girl, A memory mixed with a nightmare. A fear beyond realization. A shadow in the dark. Into the cold Now recede. Once acknowledged, Now at rest. A memory remembered.