Ghosts of 2016

I looked down on a misted plain

Below me spread the history of love and faith and hope

A history on foot, walking through the fog

Drifting on grey, sweeping to a destination

Unseen and unimaginable

Unsullied and unimportant

I watched the smoke-lit valley fill

With dreams, and faces, and lines of songs that spiralled high

And flew away on breaths of air

That whirled above my head and carried thoughts on with them

And while I looked down

On an odd second or so

I saw eyes looking up, into mine

I saw sad sorry smiles

I saw the ghosts of my own heart stare up through breeze-blown strands

And heard whispers echo from the peaks

Ghosts whispering of time, of appointments kept and futures left behind

I saw my ghosts pass through, and away, and melt into the mist

Like stars into the dawn

But I heard them say, We will not leave, We will not vanish

Until you no longer look down on this plain

Until this history can’t be read

We will walk