Ghostly images enhance the
speaking in desire for a life complete in form.
Ancestral, the beginning of all innocence.
Yet now, those seeds of innocence
have come to live in us.
No mother and no father
yet somehow both at once
striving to get past the opposition
of the very battle stance
so often held.
Each time we reach,
a memory repeats;
but sometimes merely raging pain,
and we wonder where the rain comes from
as teardrops fall from our own eyes.
When in just a glance, we
start to see again
ghostly images of past to future forming
in eyes unveiled to eternity...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...