Late every night, the cat perks up
out of the big living room window into the dark
at something intangible
And I hope that ghosts are real:
life goes by so quickly
and this world has so much yet to offer.
I spend my nights curled up against her soft, vibrating body
Reminiscing on the childhood freedom, wonder, and pain
that came and went like rolling thunder.
And as the last nights of summer fade away -
I hear the breeze, like ocean waves
It calls me outside to play.
The crickets chirp loud protests against the howling winds,
and autumn mist rains down
through the trees.
I close my eyes and remember the feeling of nights like this, years before...
The mist rolls down my cheeks.
Through the window, a black silhouette with yellow eyes peers out at me,
curious about this restless spirit
with not anchor to the present.