have you ever felt

that some places

just have

too many ghosts

everywhere we look

we see them

walking down streets

looking at the stars

opening doors

falling on their knees

it’s a clean slate

we often need

a chance to begin again

no baggage

from who knows when

where tears

still fall from trees

and weeds return

with every passing spring

words so often said

echoing sound waves

make it difficult to leave

maybe a new space

is all we need

a little blue

a little brown

window boxes

filled with green

a quaint small town

where no one

knows who we are

or where we've been

not even the ghosts

who still linger there

and the only echo

is the rustling of leaves

a lonely


kind of breeze

an owl hooting

in the almost barren trees

— patty

art — spirit tree by victor roschkov

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