The Water


The ghosts were there. Shale green walls
so cool. Floating at the tip of the stairs.

Latches all over clicked and clicked.
It was always the same.

Coming upon it
through the last cluster of trees.

Anytime someone you love leaves a room
and you wish they wouldn’t.

I placed my faith in the road
that led to the water.

Each of us leaves a suggestion.
It was the road and coming upon the water.

Was it a house or a premonition.
People flocked the far bank.

No one walks to the water alone.
There are ghosts. There are clusters of trees.

Wendy Miles