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Friendly Ghosts

A familiar face. Seen it around.
Profile’s turned away.
I stroll through the market,
awareness unexceptional today,
eyeing some watermelons.
Perhaps I’ll take that yellow pumpkin,
half kilo of kiwis?
I’ll take kiwis, Rosa,
no pumpkin today,
four beets will do.
Whose is the face in the market?

Blue blue eyes, hairline slightly
receding, trim beard,
whimsical air of comedy.
A fair likeness.
Five pesos, good day
to you, Rosa, I’ll hurry back.
checking in at 9 a.m.

Whose is that face in the market?

Standing your ground,
in appearance weightless,
a sporadic silhouette
amidst resolute shoppers.
I get visits in improbable spots:
queues at the ticket office,
you loved theatre.
The back of a head, outlined in dimness.
One gets used to it.
Broken dreams come and go
like friendly ghosts.
My eyes devour the visions,
my heart is a crystal goblet
brimming over
with fine reminiscences.

I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I often see people in crowds who look like lost loved ones, especially my late husband and two sons. My husband's grey hair, my sons' profiles, movements and so on. So I write about it.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


this has a nostalgic sound to it. I
would say a bittersweet writing.
Especially like the closing couplet

I allow ghosts to visit,
then send them on their way.


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me

Hello Rula, thanks for commenting on my poem. Yes, I often see profiles or gray hair in crowds (not now!), that bring to mind my late husband or my two sons who died, one of ALS and the other of schizophrenia, both in their twenties. I consider them "friendly ghosts" because they bring nostalgia and sadness, but not haunting or ugly images.
Now I sometimes dream of them, as I can only walk outside for about 5 blocks on earth roads, where one sees nobody most of the time. It's been snowing, but I walked all the same, with my boots and adequate clothing.
Oops, I'm warbbling on...Keep safe, a virtual hug from Argentine Patagonia. Gracy

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan,
The proper study of Mankind is Man.
Plac’d on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise, and rudely great….

An Essay On Man, III, Alexander Pope.

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